Savior
by Ly Merrick
Summary: The last thing Rachel ever expected was to find Quinn Fabray homeless and drug-addicted on streets of New York. Rachel is a Broadway star, her boyfriend is her manager, but she realizes that she's the last hope Quinn has.  Faberry
1. Verse 1

**Title**: Savior

**Pairing**: Quinn/Rachel

**Synopsis**: The last thing Rachel ever expected was to find Quinn Fabray homeless and drug-addicted on streets of New York. Years after graduation, Rachel is a Broadway star, her boyfriend is her manager, but she realizes that she's the last hope Quinn has, and that will change everything.

**A/N**: I don't know where this idea came from, really, but I figured it'd be fun to play around with! There's going to be a lot of drama/angst, and some annoying appearances by Jesse St. James, but this is a Faberry fanfic so I can assure you that they'll be together in the end. Here's to an epic, slightly AU story! Oh, also, the fic will feature verses in the beginning of each chapter from the song, "Breathe" by Erasure, one of my favorite bands. ^_^ The plan is for 8 chapters - a chapter for each 'verse.' POV will generally be from Rachel's for storytelling purposes, but when Rachel isn't present we'll get a bit of a peek at Quinn's experience.

###

**Verse 1**

_Twenty-seven times I paint the city in lights,  
>Now I changed my mind;<br>I was living fast now I'm running on empty,  
>And I feel yeah I feel,<br>You're gonna go, let me go._

###

Rachel Berry sipped quietly at her coffee. Around her, the city was alive as usual, car horns blaring and taxis speeding by with no regard to speed limits. Behind the cover of her sunglasses, she turned her gaze to passers-by, hoping to remain anonymous at least for a quiet cup of coffee. It was really the first day in weeks she'd had off. Production for this season's run of Rent had started off smoothly. After all the years it had been on Broadway, the increasing demand seemed to surprise those involved. Yet, this year it had been recieved better than any of the following. Reviews gloated that the season's cast was comprised of the most talented since the original production. When Rachel had been in high school, this is all she dreamt of. Being a Broadway star was her only dream, and now that it had come true, it seemed as if it had lost a little bit of its spark. Not all, mind you. She still felt an unbelievable rush on the stage. It was all the little details outside of work that felt tedious and unworthy of what she'd built her dreams up to be back when she didn't know what it really meant to be a 'star.' Looking back, Rachel thought perhaps it would have been more beneficial for her to be a little more social. The one thing the now-famous Rachel Berry didn't have was friends. The only friend from Lima that remained was Kurt, and that's because he had also made it to Broadway over the years. He started in off-Broadway productions and this year had been cast in Rent as Mark, her own characters ex-boyfriend; that thought had made them both laugh over a glass of wine after realizing how ironic the casting was, how it seemed that it was somehow perfect for the two of them to end up on the same stage.

Rachel smiled a little at the thought, stirring her coffee idly, but the smile faded as soon as she felt her phone vibrate against the mug, making an annoying sound against the surface. A text message from her manager simply stated, _Call me - St. James _and Rachel thought how odd that it didn't bother her that his message was so completely impersonal. She flipped her phone open, peering through her glasses at passers-by, boredly drumming her nails on top of the table.

"Hello," came the answering voice on the other end. Short, cool, calm.

"Hey," Rachel sighed into the reciever, "what is it?"

"Dinner tonight, 8. Gino's."

"Cast dinner or date?"

"Cast dinner."

Before Rachel could say their usual 'I love you' which was all together an unfeeling exchange, the other end beeped at her to signal the call had ended. They'd begun dating again right out of high school, having attended the same drama courses in college and finding their mutual passion again in both music and one another. Rachel had accepted the relationship easily - she loved Jesse's drive and passion for Broadway. Eventually, after graduating college, they'd gotten an apartment together - but Jesse had since moved out and gotten his own apartment. Once a week, Rachel would spend the night at his apartment. It all became a routine, and the relationship quickly fizzled. For both appearance and career purposes, though, they'd kept up the relationship. It seemed so easy to be in such a passionless relationship. Jesse was slightly more invested than Rachel was, of course, he was always more insistent than even the great Rachel Berry. Some days it bothered Rachel more than others. It wasn't easy when love had been such an ideal for her in high school. Now, as an adult, she had begun to think maybe she was only capable of loving music and not a person. In some ways, she did love Jesse.

She didn't love his constantly aloof attitude, or the way he drooled over tall blondes when he thought Rachel wasn't paying attention. She most certainly didn't love the way she was just a trophy on his arm, his famous girlfriend and client. As Rachel's manager he got more attention than he would ever get doing anything else. It was more of an arrangement than anything else, and Rachel lived a sort of quietly bitter life off the stage. She lived for her moments on stage, those moments with her cast-mates rehearsing and running over lines and songs, talking about ideas they all had for their own Broadway productions.

"More coffee, miss?" The sweet-voiced waitress seemed nervous as she looked down at Rachel, sadly hopeful as she held the hot pot of coffee.

Rachel shook her head, offering an apologetic smile, "No, thank you though," as she began to dig around in her purse for some cash to pay for her two cups of coffee and a tip, she saw a pen and paper shoved nervously in her line of vision.

"I didn't want to bother you," the waitress stumbled on her words, "or draw attention to you since I know you probably want a quiet breakfast but can you just sign this? I'm.. a really big fan." The redhead smiled nervously, looking as if she might fall apart if Rachel didn't acquiesce to her request.

Rachel couldn't help the small laugh that came out of her mouth, her fingers taking both the pen and paper, "No problem. I appreciate a quiet breakfast. Your name?" She glanced up at the trembling redhead, amused at the fact that she was clearly trying to keep herself calm and not look as if anything was out of the ordinary.

"Charlie," the girl grinned, her eyes darting around nervously, wide as quarters as they looked down at Rachel's hand.

Rachel nodded, "I like that," she stated simply before handing the autographed paper back to her. "It was nice to meet you, Charlie, and again thank you for not drawing too much attention my way." Her hand rested on the girl's shoulder, noting the way the redhead seemed to blush and nod quickly. She grinned to herself as she ducked her head and strode purposefully out of the confines of the gated cafe, the always slightly-short Rachel Berry going mostly unnoticed among the throng of New Yorkers heading to work for another typical day.

The city never had lost its charm for Rachel - it was the people that sometimes disappointed her. No, she most certainly loved the beauty of the bustling city, the buildings that seemed to touch the sky, the way nobody ever really slept in New York because they wanted to live every moment they could. Even when she'd first arrived and been unable to afford anything but a tiny, run-down apartment, she'd loved that, too, especially on nights when she could sneak out her window and sit on the fire-escape, watching cars zip by underneath her feet and listening to the raucous laughter shared as friends made their way to and from bars. She loved the way she could never see the glittering stars, she just knew they were there. And when the full moon stood out brighter than any light in the city, Rachel would lean on the railing of the fire-escape and sigh contentedly. New York had always been inside her, been in her blood. Even if she hadn't made it on Broadway, this would be home.

Four years of New York living and the city had never lost its allure. Rachel wished she could send a letter to her high-school self and tell her that she could endure the slushie-facials because one day she'd be falling asleep to the sound of New York humming its constant lullaby.

Tucking her hands in her pockets, Rachel sighed thoughtfully as she made her way back to her penthouse. That was the nice thing about Broadway - besides the recognition, the paychecks. Of course, she'd had to muddle through off-Broadway productions in the beginning that never made much money or shut down without her ever getting paid, she was now making quite a sum of money. Being on the main stage meant she was one of the top grossing Broadway stars of the day. Her talent and passion for the art had brought her to the point.

Nodding in greeting, Rachel smiled at the doorman as he opened the tall glass doors for her before making her way through the lobby. A few more nods and greetings passed by before she got on the elevator and stared at the floor-display, watching the floors tick by systematically. Idly, she found herself humming a tuneless sound before stepping out onto her floor. Her apartment door unlocked, she slipped inside and closed the door behind her.

The livingroom greeted her, sparkling clean, the maid having made her stop for the day already while Rachel was out for coffee. She found a bowl of fresh fruit on the dining-room table, and she fished out a good apple from the glass-top surface before she moved on to the balcony, hand sliding over the black leather couch just before the sliding doors.

Rachel leaned on the railing, again feeling her phone buzz. _Dress nice - St. James _was the message that blinked back at her, eliciting a roll of her eyes. That was always the assumption anyway, but Jesse seemed to derive happiness from calling the shots.

Despite her passionless romance and busy rehearsal schedule, Rachel Berry loved her life. For the most part, anyway. She'd spent the last four years of her life in New York, the one place she'd always wanted to be. The diva had become a star. That was all she had really wanted, anyway, right?

Rachel bit into the apple, tasting the juices splattered on her tongue, turning around and disappearing into her penthouse. She had a pretty decent life. Love didn't concern her so much anymore.

###

"Are you coming to dinner tonight?" Kurt's panicked voice greeted Rachel before the sight of him did. He burst into the apartment, hands flailing as he pushed past Rachel and disappeared into her bedroom, rifling through her closet.

Rachel grinned, "Hello to you too, Kurt," she shook her head as his familiar blur reappeared. "Yes, of course I'm going. Why?"

"We have to coordinate!" Kurt stated insistently as he searched through Rachel's collection of designer dresses. He tossed one down on the bed, grabbing Rachel's hand and roughly shoving her in front of the closet.

Rachel stood amusedly, biting back laughter as Kurt pressed different dresses up against her figure and shook his head every once in a while.

"My god, who would put you in this color?" Kurt looked aghast as he appraised a teal gown, recoiling as he hung it up, looking as if he was touching a worm.

"I resent that, Kurt Hummel, that is a vintage -"

"Mess." Kurt stated, arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow and sighing. "Oh, good, perfect!" He pulled out a long Versace gown, black with white pin-stripes that accentuated Rachel's figure.

"I wore that to the Tony's two years ago though," Rachel protested lightly, looking a little unsure as her brown eyes glanced up at Kurt.

Kurt shrugged a shoulder, "You know how that goes. Everyone forgets what you wore a week ago. I doubt they'll remember what you wore two years ago." He seemed satisfied as he looked over the dress, smoothing it out at the edges. "How's that manager of yours doing?" He asked idly, laying the dress down delicately on Rachel's bed.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders in a noncommital fashion, "Fine. He just texted me this morning."

"I find it uber-weird that you two don't live together anymore, much less go out on dates. Isn't that a little ... boring?"

"It works, though," Rachel looked a little guilty.

Kurt watched her with a suspicious gaze, sighing a little, "I'd love to see you in love, though." His eyes softened dramatically as he touched Rachel's hair. "You'd be so much happier."

Rachel shook her head, another light shrug of her shoulders, "Why be in love when I have the best friend in the world?"

Kurt grinned, laughed a little, and wrapped his arms around Rachel, squeezing her tightly, "Too bad for you that I'm about as gay as a gay unicorn."

Laughter bubbled from Rachel's throat and she hugged Kurt just as tightly, "You know what I mean," she insisted gently before pulling away. "Do you want a salad for lunch? I was just about to make one, and I don't want to eat too much before the cast dinner tonight."

Kurt nodded eagerly, "Oh, there's this new seasoning I absolutely have to get for you some time. It goes perfectly on a Ceasar salad," and with that he grabbed Rachel's hand and dragged her into the kitchen, sitting her down and busying himself in the kitchen.

"I was going to make the salad, you really don't have to make things every time you come over. I mean I have a maid and a chef for that if I want someone to make my lunch for me," she reminded Kurt, watching him with an amused expression.

"The Rachel Berry I remember wouldn't complain about someone serving her. Since you're a big Broadway star and all," Kurt teased as he set out two large salad bowls and began chopping up the necessary ingredients. "Really, though, when it comes to the whole Jesse thing -"

Rachel sighed, "Kurt, I know it doesn't make sense but I just ... I can't break up with him. We aren't in love and he probably just loves that he can have control, but ..."

"It's comfortable. Familiar. You're alone without being alone and you don't have to think about whether or not someone wants to date you."

Kurt's matter-of-fact tone surprised Rachel, but what surprised her more was the way she had unconsciously begun to nod in agreement.

"I know these things," Kurt stated haughtily, "but sweetie, I would love to see you really happy. Being in love makes you feel happier than any stage ever could."

Rachel's eyebrow arched slightly and she smiled, "I appreciate the sentiment, Kurt, but right now it's just not a concern. Jesse is fine for now."

"Saying 'for now' only proves my point. You plan on dumping him eventually."

"Eventually."

###

Gino's was a high-class, old-generation Italian restaraunt, and Rachel couldn't help but feel like she was walking onto the set of Scarface as she made her way to the VIP lounge for the cast-dinner. Kurt was latched on to her arm, wearing a matching pin-striped suit, and they seemed to get the most looks as they passed patrons. Jesse wouldn't be at the dinner tonight, and Rachel felt guilty for the relief she felt in finding that out. It turned out that it wasn't just a cast dinner, but a cast-only dinner. Since it was their first day off, the producers had paid for a quiet evening for the cast to bond and relax over some wine and Italian food. They'd even requested a special vegan menu for Rachel, as she was the only cast member who was a vegan. Rachel took a seat somewhere in the middle of the booth, Kurt slipping in next to her.

Rachel was relatively quiet at dinner. Although her cast mates were good friends and had become so over time, she felt slightly thoughtful about the whole situation as Kurt had pointed out. Was she really happy with just being on Broadway? Would she be happier - no, could she be happier if she was in love? Could it actually happen? She had always eventually planned on breaking up with Jesse St. James. He was controlling and cold and usually only invited her over to stay the night if he wanted sex. It was a loveless relationship and often times Rachel seemed to lose herself in the feeling of not feeling anything. A numbness had made its way into her life and it by all means wasn't a fairy tale.

Money didn't always buy happiness, and Rachel lost her appetite when she realized maybe she wasn't as happy as she thought. As she glanced between Kurt and her other cast mates, her expression was a little solemn and quiet as she merely observed, occasionally laughing in response to something said or masking a frown with a smile. She was good at keeping her show-face on. That's what mattered for right now. She insisted, as her mind fought with her convictions, that it was better to just stay in the relationship and not worry about it. One day there might be a spark but until then, it didn't matter. For the most part, Rachel could be independent if Jesse wasn't hovering over her shoulder, but what was independence if you were lonely?

Rachel shifted uncomfortably now and again, but as dinner ended she found herself more than eager to go home. It had turned out to be a nice, quiet night, and the sixth wine-glass told her that she should probably call her driver so he could drop Kurt off at his apartment, and drop her off at her own. She took Kurt's hand amicably as they headed out of the restaraunt, climbing into the back seat and resting her head on Kurt's shoulder.

"You might be right."

The admission hung in the air between them, and Kurt gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze.

###

The next morning, Rachel awoke with a headache and managed to swallow down a couple aspirin, praying for relief before the show that evening. She didn't really know why she had drank so much at the cast dinner, but now she wished she'd held back just a little bit. Rolling out of bed, Rachel stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and stretched upward, making her way into the kitchen and brewing a pot of coffee. The newspaper had been laid out on her counter early in the morning, and she flipped through the print without really reading anything.

Her mind was still heavy with Kurt's pestering from the day before. It's nothing Rachel didn't know, but for some reason it was really starting to bother her that perhaps Kurt was right. Maybe she needed more in her life. Yet, just as she let herself begin to wander with those thoughts, her phone rang. Without looking, she knew it was Jesse, and flipped the phone open.

"Lunch at noon, something small since I know you don't like performing on a full stomach."

And he hung up. Rachel sighed, rolling her eyes. She hated that. It was always so short when he was on the phone. Even when they were spending time together, he was the same way. It was as if Rachel was a convenience, someone reliable. Always there whenever he beckoned.

Her eyes brightened as an idea dared pass its way through her mind. She picked up her phone and dialed Kurt's number, waiting as the Lady GaGa song played in her ear, a replacement for the usual ring-ring that irritated her when she called Jesse.

Kurt picked up, mid-laughter, "Hello?"

"Hey, you want to go for lunch? Manhattan, my treat?"

"Sure! What time?"

"Noon," Rachel grinned over the phone.

"Pick you up then!" Kurt stated happily before he hung up the phone, unknowing that he'd just taken part in the first step toward Rachel Berry's romantic emancipation.

Rachel bounced happily in her seat for a moment, opening her phone once more and sending a brief text to Jesse's number.

_Sorry, already have plans. Stop hanging up on me, it's impolite. - R.B._

The diva rose from her seat, ignoring the incoming texts from Jesse's familiar ring-tone, and skipped into her bedroom to pick out clothes for her outing with Kurt today. It took her approximately an hour to figure out what to wear - something easy to change out of for later when they went on stage, but something nice enough in case she and Kurt were spotted. Manhattan was relatively quieter when it came to their cafes, and it allowed for some privacy, but there was always a chance that fans would gather anyway, or what was worse, the papparazzi. They were always eager and hungry for any kind of gossip or scandalous pictures. Of course, Kurt Hummel being on the cover of _The Advocate _every other month meant that it wasn't likely that the papparazzi would be mistaking him for Rachel Berry's secret off-stage lover.

Jeans and a cami slipped on, a decent pair of shoes, Rachel glanced at the time, marvelling at how fast it seemed to pass sometimes when she was in a good mood. The diva answered the door, her phone on silent, as Kurt greeted her happily and the pair headed out for a nice afternoon together in Manhattan. Rachel felt guilty at the amount of satisfaction she derived, knowing Jesse was having lunch by himself and busily texting her various exclamations of displeasure and irritation. She decided she'd clue Kurt in on the purpose of the particular timing of their lunch later on. For right now she just wanted a nice afternoon with her best friend.

###

"Since when do you stand me up for lunch plans with someone else?" Jesse fumed at Rachel's dressing-room doorway.

Rachel glanced over cooly, shrugged a shoulder, "Since I already had plans and you didn't bother to ask if I did or not. You tend to assume that I am consistently available when you can't even clear your schedule for our anniversary."

Jesse rolled his eyes, "Oh please, stop being dramatic."

"I'm a Broadway star, drama is what I do. If you don't mind, I'd like to finish taking this makeup off and head home."

"I'll come with you."

Rachel glanced over at Jesse, biting back her smirk, "Says who?"

Jesse looked completely shocked, and an expression of anger twisted his mouth into a light snarl, "I'm your boyfriend, Rachel, it's not like I'm not allowed to come over. Who'd you have lunch with, huh? Some old boyfriend in town?"

"Not unless Kurt Hummel and I have previously had an intimate relationship," Rachel rolled her eyes as she finished taking off her foundation, completely disregarding the fuming manager behind her. "And for your information I want a night to myself, so no you won't be coming over. Don't bother texting or calling, either." The short diva stood, grabbing her purse and waving in a noncommital way before leaving Jesse standing alone in her dressing room, stunned and displeased.

Kurt, who'd apparently decided eavesdropping was more interesting than knocking, bounced happily in the hall and took Rachel in his arms, "Go you!" His exclamation was filled with laughter as he pushed her gently down the hall. "Your apartment or mine, lover?" He nudged her playfully and Rachel laughed.

"Oh god, don't even, those are visuals I really don't want," Rachel stated through her laughter and wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist.

Kurt shivered visibly and frowned, "Ew, agreed."

###

It was on the way home that Rachel Berry recieved the biggest shock of her life. She and Kurt had been walking along the streets, block by block, laughing and sharing a late night pretzel together, when she was nearly knocked over by a head of blonde-hair streaking past them, nearly knocking them both flat on their behinds. Behind the running girl was a slightly overweight shop-owner who looked red with quite the furious disposition.

"I don't know if I should be irritated or worried," Kurt stated simply, glancing at the pair as they ran across a busy street.

Rachel frowned slightly. This wasn't really a part of the city that was prone to high crime rates. That was the first time she'd really witnessed a chase since she first moved here. What seemed stranger to her was that the criminal was female. Not that statistics didn't point to high crime rates for desperate females, but the crime rates were inevitably higher on the male side.

Kurt snapped his fingers in Rachel's face, as the brunette had gotten lost in staring down the street after them, and just as he was about to speak, Rachel gasped and her hand flew over her mouth.

"Oh my god," was all she managed to get out before they were both deafened by the sound of glass and steel, squealing breaks and angry shouts. It was the loud and sickening 'thunk' of a body hitting a windshield that made Rachel's stomach wretch. "Oh my god," she gasped out again and she looked at Kurt before dashing across the street and joining a gathering crowd of onlookers as one person tremblingly dialed 911.

Kurt's hand rested on her back as he caught up with her, "Is she okay?" He tried peering over a taller gentleman's shoulders but failed.

"I don't know," and for a reason Rachel couldn't explain, she slipped from Kurt's grasp and under someone's arm, glad for her short stature as she squeezed through the crowd. Her eyes didn't immediately register what she saw - a broken and battered girl laying on the cement, groaning in pain and rolling on to her side as she rebuffed someone's effort to pick her up off the ground. The wet road gleamed under bright headlights. The limp body on the pavement caused Rachel to gasp.

"Quinn!" Rachel cried out, confusedly, although the girl was unconscious.

Kurt had rushed forward just in time to hear Rachel's exclamation, "Oh my god," he gasped quietly, a hand over his heart, and he watched paramedics swarm around and clear the crowd.

Rachel's eyes were full of fear. The last place she thought she'd run into Quinn after high school was here, with Quinn lying unconscious and battered on the cement. She tried to keep a clear view of Quinn, praying that the ambulance would keep their lights on (it was bad news if the ambulance didn't bother to turn their lights on) as Quinn Fabray was lifted into the ambulance and shut away from the prying eyes of a concerned crowd of New Yorkers. It wasn't until Kurt tugged at her arm that Rachel numbly followed Kurt back to her apartment, stumbling a little, glancing behind her at the retreating ambulance, sirens ringing in her head.

###

"Her name is Quinn Fabray... she was..she was brought in last night around midnight?" Rachel questioned hopefully. She'd spent all morning the next day calling every hospital she could, trying to find out where the ambulance had taken her old schoolmate. Although they'd never really been on polite terms very much, still, this was a person she'd grown up with and known nearly her entire life. It was like seeing Mercedes or Santana splayed broken in the middle of the New York streets. Rachel couldn't help but be concerned.

"There was a Quinn brought in, but she wouldn't give us her last name. She was high as a kite and had several broken bones," the voice on the other line seemed robotic, as if they spoke of this kind of thing every day. Rachel was stung with how impersonal the woman's tone was, and had half a mind to complain.

"Blonde? About 5'4"-5'6"? Cropped haircut?"

"Sounds like her," the nurse responded on the other line. "Are you family?"

Rachel didn't know what to say. Most likely the hospital had a policy about visitors that weren't family. Yet, Rachel Berry had a moral struggle with the idea of lying to see her potential enemy. "Yes," Rachel answered before she realized, and it wasn't until the nurse asked for her name and when she'd be in to visit that Rachel realized she'd answered.

She ignored every other text and call, but did manage to text Kurt the name of the hospital and what room Quinn would be in. The diva informed him in another text that they were only letting family visit but she had lied "just to make sure she's okay." Seeing such a prominent piece of her past injured as badly as Quinn had shook Rachel to the core. This was someone she knew more than almost anyone else, even though all her knowledge had come from combative arguments and heated situations with the girl. This was the girl she'd tended to during Junior Prom, cried with, argued with, both hated and envied.

It wasn't long before Rachel found herself nervously drumming her fingers against the nurse's station, waiting to be admitted and allowed to see Quinn. Nerves twisted about in her stomach with a ferocity unmatched. Rachel couldn't focus on anything right now. She pulled out her phone, sending a quick text to her producer informing him to put one of her understudies in her place for tonight's show - there had been a family emergency, she'd said, and again wondered at the use of the excuse of Quinn being family to make sure the blonde was okay. Kurt had sent flowers to Quinn's room with a simple note, but Rachel Berry, Broadway star and diva, had shown up personally with worry etched on every inch of her face.

The nurse finally waved Rachel down the hall, and Rachel had to control herself - she wanted to run down the hall and into the room because panic was settling inside her and it was a force to be reckoned with. She settled for shoving her nervous hands in her back pockets as the nurse opened the door to the room Quinn was sharing with another patient.

Rachel wasn't ready for the shock of seeing Quinn Fabray hooked up to IVs and liquid nutrition, doused in a cold sweat from withdrawals and groaning in pain. It looked as if Quinn had been run over by a train, not by a taxi, and Rachel felt shaken to the core as she stood awkwardly in the silent room. The diva glanced over her shoulder at the other patient, who was drowsily dozing off to an episode of Maury Povich. Swallowing, Rachel wondered what she was doing here, and why.

Her eyes scanned over Quinn, face contorting gently with concern as she heard Quinn let out another pained groan, something close to a sob, but her eyes still didn't open. Rachel worried, frowned, stood nervously at the edge of the bed. She glanced over Quinn's charts, seeing the long list of injuries and diagnoses, before her eyes searched the unconscious person in front of her.

What was Quinn Fabray doing in New York? Had she really come in high? Quinn had always been one of those outstanding moral individuals - except when it came to torturing Rachel Berry - that Rachel envied for the ability to resist any kind of outlandish behavior. She'd always admired Quinn's strength and stability, the fact that Quinn would go on to do great and wonderful things with her life, find a husband, get married. So what had brought the former HBIC to this point? To this low? If rock bottom had been hit, why had it been hit? Rachel never expected Quinn to fail at anything.

Yet, here Quinn lay, experiencing drug withdrawals and injuries to boot. Rachel stayed for a little longer, keeping her unsure positioning at the end of the bed, before she rounded the side of the bed and left a simple 'Get Well' card with Rachel's number and name written inside. She was sure Quinn wouldn't care, but Rachel just wanted Quinn to know she'd been there to see her, to make sure she was okay. Rachel knew Quinn was terrified of hospitals, ever since she'd had Beth. Rachel also didn't want Quinn to think no one knew she was here. Rachel knew.

The brunette hesitated, pressed a gentle hand to Quinn's face, before she turned and made her way out of the hospital room. The nurse at the station seemed surprised to see Rachel so soon, and even more surprised as Rachel pulled out her checkbook.

"How much will her hospital stay be, in total?" Rachel stated as she began to write out a check, filling in the amount the nurse informed her of. "I'll be back tomorrow, please contact me if she wakes up." Rachel stated quietly as she offered a smile to the bewildered nurse, before making her way out of the hospital, her mind heavy and full of too many questions.

###

"Rach, this is ridiculous. I haven't seen you all week and you still won't go to lunch with me," Jesse whined on the other end of the phone. "I mean not only am I your manager but you seem to have forgotten I am also your boyfriend."

"Trust me, I haven't forgotten. I just need ..." Rachel sighed heavily over the phone, massaging the space between her eyes as she closed them. Her head was really starting to pound with all the stress she was dealing with, "I just need some space, alright? I'll contact you for lunch next week or something. An old ... friend," she hesitated on the word, sighing again, "got injured in a car accident and I just have a lot on my mind. I have more important things to worry about right now."

"More important than your relationship, your career?" Jesse fumed on the other end.

Rachel rolled her eyes, "I didn't think those things were mutually exclusive to one another, Jesse. Either way, yes, more important than both of those things. Once in a while, other things have to come first. I need some space and I expect you to respect that."

Jesse let out a huff, "Fine, bye."

And with that, the line went silent and Rachel laid down for the third time that day. Her head was pounding. She'd continued to check her phone all day in hopes the nurse would call to let her know that Quinn had woken up. Kurt had called once or twice to ask how Quinn had been when Rachel saw her, if Quinn got the flowers, if Rachel was doing okay (because it was highly unusual for Rachel Berry to use an understudy and miss a performance) or needed anything.

Rachel didn't have answers for any of her questions right now, and she most certainly didn't have answers for Kurt's questions, or Jesse's. She closed her eyes, and waited for the phone call. A big part of her knew she shouldn't be this worried about Quinn. The girl had made her life a living hell. Yet, without Quinn, Rachel wouldn't have been half as determined to reach Broadway. Quinn's bullying, in a strange way, had forced Rachel to focus her energy on getting out of Lima, getting free from the grasp of mediocrity.

Rachel Berry didn't rest well that evening. She lay with cell phone in hand, staring at the glowing screen in front of her eyes, praying for Quinn to wake up. It went against her instincts to care about Quinn's well-being, but then again, Rachel had never been very good at not caring about people. If her being in a relationship with Jesse St. James, the boy who'd smashed an egg over her head to humiliate her, was testament to anything, it was a testament to the fact that she was far too forgiving and caring for her own good.


	2. Verse 2

Title: Savior

Pairing: Quinn/Rachel

Synopsis: The last thing Rachel ever expected was to find Quinn Fabray homeless and drug-addicted on streets of New York. Years after graduation, Rachel is a Broadway star, her boyfriend is her manager, but she realizes that she's the last hope Quinn has, and that will change everything. Slight AU.

A/N: Continuing on the trend, I'll be using lyrics from Erasure's "Breathe." ^_^

_m-cooper: I'm glad you're intrigued! To be honest I'm just super excited to get into the real meat of the story, it's going to be a fun one to write.  
>mythic-lionheart: I can't wait either! Haha, I had this idea in the middle of the night and had to force myself to get some sleep before starting work on it this morning. I wrote for about 4 hours and it still didn't feel like enough. :P Bahah, Rachel is amazing, the text made me giggle.<br>ducky: I'm glad you're hooked! ;)_

###

**Verse 2**

_Breathe, and I breathe_

_It's bitter without you I can't live without you_

_And I'm in love with you_

###

The call came at three in the morning. A bleary-eyed Rachel shot up out of bed, limbs flying, phone tumbling to the floor as she grappled sleepily for the object which was so loudly screeching at her. It took Rachel quite a few moments to gather her wits, staring at the screen trying to make out the blurry letters to see who was calling her at such a detestable hour. Then, like a pillow-case stuffed full of angry kittens, it hit her. She flipped the phone open, answering in a panicked voice, "Hello?"

The nurse on the other end had a deep and unpleasant tone to her voice, "I was informed we're to contact you when Miss Fabray awoke. It seems you're the only family member that we have any contact information for, and you're the only one who's come to visit her," as if sensing the tension on the other line, the nurse didn't give any hesitation before continuing, "the doctor has stated that Miss Fabray will need to be kept in our hospital ward pending 4 days, mostly because heroin addicts go through dangerous withdrawals. You'll be allowed to visit her when visiting hours begin, at 6am."

It was all very robotic - that's the tone the nurse had, and Rachel felt displeased with the lack of concern they seemed to have for Quinn. It was as if the nurse was reading a boring lecture on biology, not informing a girl's family member of her well-being after such a fearful event. Not that she was actually Quinn's family, in fact Rachel was pretty sure that Quinn would want nothing to do with Rachel as soon as the brunette arrived.

Quinn had no one, absolutely no one, and Rachel could understand that feeling. Even if Quinn fought it, Rachel would at least stick it through to make sure Quinn was okay, if only until she was released from the hospital. Rachel must have lingered too long in her thoughts, as she heard a throat clear on the other end.

"Ma'am?"

"Oh, yes, sorry," Rachel quickly corrected. "I'll be there right at 6 am." The brunette toyed with her phone before continuing, "Is there anything she needs, or will need, for her stay in the hospital?"

"We provide patients with everything they'll need, although if she wants comfortable pajamas, you could bring some of those."

Rachel knew that was a logistical problem. Quinn was a few inches taller than her, and any pajama pants she may have had would have been too short, but now that she thought of it, hospital clothing seemed to look quite uncomfortable, she nodded silently before responding, "Yes, of course, thank you."

She cordially hung up afterward, glancing at the clock and feeling her nerves grating against her bones, shredding in her stomach. The Broadway star knew it was going to be difficult to force herself back to sleep, and inevitably it was going to make for a very long day. She had a performance in the evening; hopefully Quinn wouldn't kick her out right away. Rachel wanted at least to discover what it was that brought the HBIC to the lowest depths of life in New York. She was worried, not uncharacteristically so. She tossed and turned for another few hours before deciding to rise. She still had about 30 minutes before she planned on getting to the hospital.

The thought of getting some comfortable pajamas still lingered, and she found herself in a high-end clothing store. If she was going to get on Quinn's good side, some expensive (but affordable) pajamas may at least do the trick. Rachel had picked out about three separate pairs of pajamas, purchasing them all just in time to catch a taxi to the hospital. Nerves fluttered in her stomach and worry crossed her features as she paid the cabby and got out, passing through the doors into the hospital entrance and once again checking in to visit Quinn. It was 6:05 am, just after visiting hours began. Quietly, Rachel made her way through the sterile hallways and raised her hand as if to knock on the door, but thought better of it as she eased the door open. Quinn's roommate was now gone - Rachel hoped because of a bill of good health - and Quinn was sound asleep on her bed, still looking sallow and her skin paler than usual. The brunette approached the bed quietly, gently touching the girl's face to feel her temperature, more of a natural instinct than anything else. Brown eyes searched the unconscious face, then scanned the room for a place to set the pajamas. As Rachel pulled open the bedside drawer to check for the amount of space, she saw that Quinn's flowers had been moved and the card had been placed in front of the flowers, open. Quinn had read the card.

Rachel's eyes flickered to Quinn once more, before she lay down a pair of Quinn's pajamas, a light green pair to match the color of her eyes which Rachel could remember so fondly. The brunette set the bag down beside Quinn's bed, leaving the other two pair folded. How did Quinn end up here? It broke Rachel's heart in the worst way, to see the former HBIC, Senior Prom Queen, laying in bed, layered in cold sweat from withdrawals. Rachel wanted to ask her why, wanted to search Quinn's mind to figure out how she'd ended up here.

Instead, Rachel let Quinn sleep, and pulled a chair to the side of Quinn's bed. Occasionally she'd check the monitors although her medical knowledge was very limited, as if worried that she would take a turn for the worse. Rachel thought that maybe it wasn't too late for Quinn. If she really had been addicted to heroin, for who knows how long, maybe it wasn't too late to help her turn her life around, diverting her gaze to avoid leering worriedly at the unconscious girl. Quinn had always been cranky when tired, so that meant if Rachel woke her up, the chances of Quinn throwing her out would become significantly more likely if she found her formerly most hated person staring at her in her sleep.

Rachel folded her hands in her lap and waited.

###

Two hours Rachel sat, patiently, quietly, until Quinn began to stir. It was 8 am, and that meant that Rachel still had about 10 hours until she needed to be backstage to prepare for the performance tonight. At first, Rachel thought maybe Quinn was just having withdrawal pains, but when the blonde shot up out of her bed, an arm flying into the pole, Rachel jumped and caught one of the IVs before it came clattering to the floor.

Quinn was panting, looking quite unaware of her surroundings as she looked lazily down at her arms, at the IVs, and then those familiar green eyes stopped dead as Rachel stopped the swaying IVs beside her.

"Quinn," Rachel breathed as those eyes connected with her own. She might as well have been looking at a stranger. Quinn's eyes were unbelievably distant, hazy, and she thought maybe she was about to get some kind of vicious retaliation until Quinn's expression fell apart and the blonde began crying.

Quinn was clutching her stomach, and Rachel felt panic surge through her, rushing to the bedside, "Quinn, are you okay?"

"Get off me, Berry! Everything hurts right now, goddamnit, don't touch me!" Quinn batted at her hands viciously and rolled on her side.

Rachel hesitated, "Do you want me to get a nurse?"

"No," Quinn clenched her jaw tightly as she rocked herself back and forth a bit.

Rachel swallowed nervously, and she felt like running out of the room. Maybe it had been a mistake. Seeing Quinn like this scared her.

It was then that Quinn's laughter startled Rachel, unsettled her, the blonde's formerly sweet voice full of bitterness, "God, of all people to end up in my hospital room, in the one place I thought I could just disappear," Quinn's skin was clammy as Rachel hesitantly touched her forehead. Her temperature seemed normal. "Rachel fucking Berry shows up like some savior, all concerned about my well-being."

Rachel withdrew her hand as if she'd touched hot coals, and she swallowed. A million questions flew through her mind, but the only thing she could think to say was, "I just know you hate hospitals," her voice was quiet, timid, and she desperately wanted Quinn to be okay.

"Save the poor heroin addict, famous Rachel Berry," Quinn spat and turned a dark gaze in Rachel's direction. It took everything in Rachel not to cower at Quinn's vicious and familiar glare.

Rachel hesitated, "I know we were never friends, but whether you like it or not, I'm here, and I'm not leaving anytime soon. Now, I'm going to get a refreshing carbonated beverage. Do you want one while I'm out there?"

Quinn laughed, or barked, a mixture of the two, but it died down to a whimper, "No," Quinn murmured into her pillow.

"I'll get a nurse for you, to make sure you're okay," Rachel finished quietly and as she disappeared into the hallway, she knew she really didn't want anything to drink, she just wanted to get some air. The Quinn that was laying in that room was like some Bizzaro!Quinn that Rachel had never met before, but yet was somehow so familiar in her broken state that it broke Rachel's heart. Was this the product of Quinn's tumultous past with giving up her daughter, with trying to be perfect in high school? And furthermore, who was to blame for her drug addiction? Rachel felt such a flurry of emotions she felt herself quivering and had to gather herself.

It took about fifteen minutes of breathing exercises and a few strange looks from nurses passing by before Rachel could make her way bravely back into the room.

"No soda?" Quinn stated lamely, her head turned away from Rachel.

Rachel hesitated, "They didn't have anything I liked," she stood awkwardly at the bedside before recalling she'd purchased Quinn more comfortable pajamas. "I .. I got you some pajamas, as I know the polyester fabric they use to make those horrendous articles of clothing is particularly uncomfortable and revealing in some ways."

Quinn laughed, darkly, "God, you haven't changed at all. How is it that you haven't changed? Why are you here?" Those flashing hazel eyes slid in Rachel's direction.

"I live here. I mean... not here, but in New York. I've made quite a name for myself," Rachel stated proudly as she rounded the other side of the bed, determined to make Quinn accept her offer of compassion.

"Of course," Quinn's murmur greeted Rachel as the blonde followed Rachel's movement suspiciously. "Don't you want to know why I ended up here? Why I'm a drug addict? I'm sure you found that out already."

Rachel paused, flushing guiltily, frowning, and nodded, "I do, but I'm not going to ask because it's not any of my business."

"It's not."

"Okay," Rachel stated quietly before fingering the silk pajamas laying on the end of the bed, "Here," she offered gently, hopefully, and saw it took Quinn a few false starts before she took the pajamas in hand. "I also have two other pairs. The doctor said you'll be kept here for approximately four days," the brunette rambled and stepped back (almost stumbling) when Quinn started to get out of bed. "They're brand new, I purchased them this morning."

"These cost more than ..." Quinn shook her head in disbelief, looking at Rachel with suspicion, "I gave you hell, made your life hell, why would you do this for me? You haven't seen me in years and we were never friends."

Rachel shrugged her shoulder, and continued on her prior line of discussion, "They should fit you fine. If you're still about the same height as you were in high school." Her voice was quiet, and she watched as Quinn looked between Rachel and the pajamas as if deciding whether or not to accept the gift. The blonde appraised the pajamas, looking slightly embarassed as she did so. She didn't look as if she'd had nice things for quite a long time.

"Okay," Quinn conceded softly before she disappeared into the bathroom, taking a few moments to change before she came back out; she didn't get more than two steps out of the bathroom door before Rachel was at her side, hand at her back and the other hand guiding Quinn, "I'm sick and going through withdrawals, Berry, not crippled," she gently tugged her arm away and cast her eyes downward.

Something in the silence told Rachel that's as far as she was going to get for today, but the brunette hesitantly took a seat, hands folded in her lap, and sat with Quinn in silence the remainder of the day, sometimes getting a nurse or two when Quinn seemed to be in pain from the withdrawal symptoms.

It was a start.

###

_I assume you'll be performing tonight. - St. James_

Rachel read the text with a scowl on her face, clicking her phone shut as she walked down the hospital sidewalk, flagging down a taxi as she arrived on the busy street. Part of her didn't even want to answer the text. She got into the cab, instructing the cabby on where to go, then sank into the back seat. She watched the looming hospital disappear from sight, sighing discontentedly before she opened her phone again. Sometimes she didn't even know what to say to him. Rachel shook her head, frowned.

_I wouldn't deny the crowd the amazing vocal talents of Rachel Berry two nights in a row, Jesse. Stop making that stupid face, you know the one you get when you're being superior. - R.B._

She didn't have much in the way of wit sometimes, that was really Kurt's department. Part of her wished she could come up with something clever just to sting Jesse just a bit more, but Rachel stuffed her phone away, realizing she didn't care that much right now. She'd made relatively little progress with Quinn today, but it was something that Quinn hadn't kicked her out and hadn't thrown the expensive pajamas in the garbage as soon as Rachel offered them to her. All in all, it seemed as if Quinn needed someone no matter how stubborn she would be about admitting that. Rachel looked out the window, watching the city come alive in the evening, the way it seemed to slowly light up like a firefly in summer, every single night an adventure for most New Yorkers. No matter how much Quinn would fight her, she was going to help her in any way she could. This girl had been someone important to Rachel, in a weird way, and she felt she owed Quinn everything she could muster.

She knew Quinn was laying in that hospital bed, looking out the window, most likely pondering the mistakes in her life. Rachel felt her heart clench. She still didn't have answers, and Quinn wasn't going to divulge them anytime soon. It significantly concerned Rachel that there was a possibility of Quinn continuing her bad habits after she was released from the hospital; the diva didn't know how she'd cope if Quinn just disappeared. Rachel would forever wonder if the girl she knew so well was lying in a ditch somewhere, dead from overdose or someone getting violent. She wrung her hands and as the city passed by her, she knew it was going to be a difficult performance tonight.

###

"Well if it isn't my beauty queen," Jesse's voice greeted her as she entered her dressing room. It took all her power not to roll her eyes and turn around to walk right out.

Rachel merely allowed a sigh to escape, "Hello," she stated simply, as coldly as she could muster with all her concerns etched on her face. "May I ask what you're doing in my dressing room?"

"I was hoping we could talk about this 'space' thing," Jesse began, standing up and towering over Rachel, trying to smooth-talk his way out of yet another sticky situation. "We've been through so much," his hand traced her face and Rachel fought the urge to recoil. She merely turned her head away from his touch and pulled away.

"For someone intelligent you really don't understand a very simple concept, Jesse St. James. I have a lot on my mind and the last thing I need is my manager," she emphasized the word with a sort of bitterness that made Jesse flinch, "hovering over me."

"Boyfriend," Jesse corrected.

Rachel narrowed her gaze, "Manager. Now get out before I throw you out."

Jesse seemed stunned by the viciousness being thrown in his direction, and shrugged a shoulder before he stalked out of the room, closing the door loudly behind him. Rachel didn't know why she was so suddenly irritated with Jesse; perhaps she was taking her stresses out on him. Their relationship had been going south for quite some time, but Rachel always thought perhaps it was better being in a bad relationship than being in none at all. Maybe she was wrong.

She found herself staring at her reflection for a long time, searching for any hint of feeling, any hint of passion. The only time she felt passion was on stage. Everything else was comparatively numb and it was as if a 'nothingness' had begun to bleed into her life and consume the things she thought would only enhance the joy of achieving her dreams: Broadway stardom, being recognized everywhere she went, finding herself on the arm of the perfect leading-man. Yet her life felt incredibly lacking.

Rachel began to apply her make-up carefully, and Quinn snuck into her mind again. Maybe that's what Quinn had been driven by, why she'd end up a heroin addict on the streets of New York. Maybe Quinn had been searching for something to fill an emotional void left by some of her more traumatic experiences in life. It seemed plausible, but she wouldn't know until Quinn decided to open up to her - correction, if she decided to open up to her. Quinn was never an easy one to crack; she'd only cried in front of Rachel a handful of times during their years going through the same school systems. They'd never been friends, always been at one another for one thing or the other, and inevitably seemed to hate one another.

And yet here they both were, the same city, their lives suddenly colliding in a confusing turn of events. None of it made a whole lot of sense to Rachel. Of the few people to leave Lima, she'd always thought Quinn would stay behind and do something relatively normal with her life. That had comforted Rachel because at least if Quinn was in Lima, that meant when Rachel returned there would be someone familiar still there, even if that someone hated her with a passion.

Rachel was pulled from her thoughts as she realized it was time to change into her costume for the first scene Maureen appears, and she tried to push all thoughts of her own unhappy life and Quinn's tragic happenstance out of her mind for the time being.

###

The first time Rachel knew she had a shot at getting Quinn to share her story with her was when she'd gotten a call from the hospital to her cell phone. It was Quinn's last day in the hospital, so Rachel hadn't expected any contact. When Rachel had stopped by and stayed with Quinn, they'd again shared a whole day of silence. Rachel had decided maybe she shouldn't come by the hospital that day, but Quinn's voice startled Rachel as she picked up the phone.

"Where are you?" Quinn's voice hesitated on the other line. Rachel could hear the nervous drumming of fingers on the back of the receiver.

Rachel didn't know exactly how to answer that question, and she had to let her brain take in the fact Quinn was asking her where she was, by extension also wondering why Rachel wasn't there, "I'm sorry, I woke up late," lie, "I'm on my way over there now." She must have sounded a little startled because Quinn immediately began to backtrack.

"It's okay, you don't have to come," Quinn's voice got noticeably quieter.

"Do you want coffee from Starbucks? You used to like latt's with soy milk, back in high school," Rachel offered quietly as a way of assuring Quinn she'd be there. Why was she reassuring Quinn?

"Sure," Quinn answered, quietly, and another female voice sounded in the background. "See you soon."

Rachel hesitated, but as the line went dead she closed her phone and looked in disbelief at the phone. She even checked through it a couple times to make sure it really had been Quinn and not some imaginary happening that Rachel made up. Indeed, Quinn had called her. Quinn had wanted her there. Rachel told herself that maybe they were making progress, maybe she could help Quinn, but she didn't want to get her hopes up. Maybe Quinn just didn't want to be in the hospital alone.

Rachel arrived soon after, a little breathless from the hurried pace at which she'd forced herself to arrive, with two soy lattes, foam on the top of Quinn's. The brunette checked in and entered the room cautiously.

Quinn was fidgeting with her IVs, looking uncertain and sicker than the day before, "Sorry," Quinn stated quietly before Rachel could close the door. "There's no one else," Quinn stated in a way that suggested to Rachel there was no one else to visit Quinn or keep her company in the hospital.

"I don't mind," Rachel stated simply and gently handed Quinn the latte, taking a seat next to the bed and sipping her own. She felt awkward around Quinn, but she hoped that would change over time.

Wait, over time? Rachel corrected herself. For all she knew, Quinn would never see her again, she might disappear and go back to hurting her body in ways Rachel couldn't bare to think of. She couldn't imagine Quinn doing heroin, couldn't imagine her wasting away slowly because of a drug addiction.

Quinn seemed to notice Rachel lost in thought, because she cast a questioning glance at Rachel, "You don't have to stay, today's my last day." She sounded unsure. And that thought alone made Rachel see the Quinn before her lost, and alone.

Rachel shook her head, "I want to."

"Okay."

Rachel knew that's as far as they'd get today. She just hoped Quinn wouldn't disappear and return to what she'd been doing. She wanted to help Quinn get better, wanted her to be the same person she knew before all this had happened, however it had happened.

###

Rachel hesitated to leave later that evening. She'd recieved a text from Jesse that said _Almost showtime and you're still not here. - St. James. _Rachel replied in kind with _You're very astute. I'd be impressed, but I'm not. - R.B._

Quinn had been watching Rachel text intently, and her voice startled Rachel out of her quiet fuming, "Boyfriend?"

"Yeah, and manager," Rachel stated solemnly. "Although we're basically on what you might call a 'break.' Which isn't surprising I'm sure," she forgot momentarily that Quinn hadn't seen her in years and would have no way of knowing who she was dating, "oh, of course, yes, I mean because it's Jesse St. James."

Quinn's face twisted in disgust, "Why in the hell would you be dating him?"

Rachel merely shrugged her shoulder noncomittally and sighed, "I've been asking myself the same thing."

Quinn fell silent, but nodded.

"I actually have a uhm... a show, tonight." Rachel's words hung between them like unspoken questions, and Rachel swallowed nervously. "So I have to go but... Quinn?"

The blonde didn't acknowledge her directly, instead glanced in Rachel's direction, her gaze averted.

"Are you going to disappear?"

"Maybe."

Rachel paused, wondering how far to push the blonde, but merely bit her bottom lip in thought, "Please don't. Whatever you're thinking of going out there to do. It's not worth your life."

Quinn didn't reply. By the time Rachel left, she had rolled on her side and resumed ignoring the brunette.

###

Rachel absolutely couldn't focus, and she hoped the audience didn't notice too much as they took their final bow. She broke away as early as she could, rushing behind the curtains and hoping to get changed and leave before Quinn could disappear too quickly. Quinn would have been released three hours ago, so if she'd been travelling on foot, by Rachel's calculations she couldn't have made it more than the distance into Manhattan. The problem was, that was still a lot of area to cover.

The brunette hurriedly threw on her normal clothes, saying goodbyes and apologies for not staying around longer, not giving any reasons as to why. She saw Jesse leering just outside as she waved down a taxi. The first taxi rushed past Rachel, allowing Jesse enough time to approach her in his usual cool-calm manner.

"Where are you running off to?" He asked in a haughty tone, his arms folded over his chest as Rachel continued to try and wave a taxi down.

"To find Quinn," Rachel breathed out, panicking, practically throwing herself in a taxi and directing him to the hospital as immediately as possible. She could just barely hear Jesse's voice over the hum of the motor as the taxi pulled out of traffic.

"Quinn who?" Jesse's hands were risen in confusion and he looked just as frustrated as ever as he disappeared from view.

Rachel sank into her seat, eyes combing every inch of space within her line of vision. She didn't know if it was reasonable to hope she could find Quinn. Part of her desperately pleaded with the heavens to see a glimpse of Quinn somewhere, but she saw not a sign of her as she paid the cabby and rushed into the hospital, a flurry of questions causing the nurses to get impatient with Rachel as they insisted they didn't know where Quinn had gone.

And so, Rachel made her way out onto the city streets, rain starting to pour down, and she walked as far as her legs would take her, Quinn's name drowned out against the rain. She shouldn't have cared so much about Quinn's well-being, but seeing someone formerly so full of promise at the lowest point of life broke her heart. There was nothing she could do but search for Quinn, search for answers.

It wasn't until her feet started to blister that Rachel finally gave up for the night. Shivering and soaked from the rain, Rachel thought maybe it would be like in the movies when the people they're looking for reappear miraculously on their front doorstep, but this wasn't the movies. Rachel made her way up the front steps to her apartment, no sign of Quinn anywhere.

Somewhere out there, Quinn was wandering around dangerous streets alone. Rachel had always been loyal, and even though many years had passed since they'd been superficially bonded by being in glee club together, Rachel still thought of the glee clubbers every day. Her loyalty remained firm and she'd find Quinn if she had to spend the next three days in the rain searching for her.

###

Rachel spent every waking hour outside of the performances roaming the streets of New York. She'd started where Quinn had attempted to rob that store, just before she'd gotten hit, but reasonably she had no way of knowing where Quinn was at. Rachel began to lose hope. She carried around a senior picture of Quinn for the week following showing everyone she saw, asking, begging for any sign that someone had seen her. No one had.

Rachel was terrified, and felt overwhelmed with the need to make sure Quinn was safe. She had to be. She had to be. Rachel had insisted that so many time within her own mind, it became her mantra. She needed to know Quinn would be alright, that some terrible fate wouldn't befall her. Rachel didn't care what her own reasons were, just knew that it didn't matter. Someone had to care about Quinn, save her from the destructive path she was going down.

Her voice was hoarse, hollow, and by the second week of searching for Quinn, Rachel had to again step out of a performance. Her understudy was glad to take the role, since it was really the only way she could get noteriety - being Rachel Berry's understudy was an honor a lot of girls had fought for.

Yet Rachel never gave up. Kurt had begun to worry about Rachel, but knew nothing could stop Rachel Berry from achieving the goals she put her mind to. He'd also been worried about Quinn. Though none of them had been on the best terms growing up, it didn't negate the fact that they knew one another. They knew one another better than anyone else.

Quinn's face haunted Rachel, even in her sleep. She could hear Quinn crying, see her in some dark alley. It terrified Rachel and she didn't - couldn't fully understand why. She supposed if she were in Quinn's position she'd want someone to come find her too. Even if she couldn't admit it.

Rachel had nearly lost hope. It had been two and a half weeks and her mind constantly raced. When Jesse had finally convinced Rachel to come back and do a show, she realized her job was on the line and the show had to go on. Her PR agents had covered up the long absence as a bad case of the flu and sore throat, but the heat she'd recieved from the producers had been enough to make her worry for her job. At that point she would have gladly given up her job to find out if Quinn was even alive, but she knew the more intelligent thing to do was go back to work.

Needless to say, she didn't give up her search. She still spent the rest of the week searching on her off-hours, drinking coffee after coffee. Nothing, no scrap of evidence.

"You really need to take a break. Did you try calling the NYPD?" Kurt questioned as they strode out of the back entrance, wrapped up for the night.

Rachel nodded, "Yes, they're looking for her as well but the number of homeless in New York is, as you know, outstanding. It's unreasonable to expect they'd find her." Rachel insisted, as if this was a good argument for her being the one to search 12 hours of every day.

"It's unreasonable to expect that one person could find her, namely you." Kurt pointed out delicately and touched her shoulder. "You need a break, just think about it." Kurt insisted before they parted ways and he headed for the door.

Rachel watched him go before she pushed the other door open. She walked down the quiet alley, unlocking her own car as she strode across wet pavement, drawing her jacket around her. Quinn must be so cold, wherever she was. Rachel was about to open her car door when she spotted a collapsed form against one of the back gates.

Blonde hair, pale skin. Rachel's heart leapt. Could it be?

She rushed forward, and as she pulled the girl upward gently off the ground, tears sprung into her eyes. Quinn. Barely conscious.

"Said you'd..." Quinn coughed out, and opened her eyes sleepily. She was high.

Rachel didn't know what to feel, what to think, and instead she lifted Quinn in her arms, stunned at the lightness of Quinn in her arms. Was she really so small?

"Said you'd be here, I found you," Quinn laughed lazily as if she'd told a joke before her head drooped back against Rachel's shoulder, another wet cough rattling her lungs.

"Quinn," Rachel gasped emotionally before she helped Quinn in the passenger's side, quickly starting the vehicle and throwing it into reverse, hurriedly speeding down the alley and heading home.

Quinn was unconscious by the time Rachel get to her apartment, and she spent nearly a half an hour trying to carry the limp body in her arms, clutching Quinn to her like a broken doll, hardly believing the mixture of joy and sorrow in her heart.

###

Rachel observed Quinn sleeping on her bed that night. The diva sat bedside all night, watchful gaze never leaving Quinn's side. She'd have to call the doctor the next day, that much was certain. Rachel was coughing as if there was fluid in her lungs and Rachel surmised that she was suffering from pneumonia, which was a reasonable assumption considering the weather.

Former HBIC, now a heroin addict, a broken girl, sleeping in Rachel's bed. How had they both come so far and yet found one another in the mess? Rachel, the secretly unhappy Broadway star, and Quinn, the girl everyone expected to succeed in living the perfect white-picket-fence dream.

Rachel reached over, gently smoothing Quinn's messy hair, and for the first time that night she noticed Quinn was still wearing the green pajama top Rachel had bought her during her hospital stay. The diva's gaze lingered and felt a quiet sense of relief finally wash over her. She could finally rest. Quinn was still alive, barely hanging on, but she was still alive. Rachel lay down in bed next to Quinn, leaving a reasonable amount of distance between them, and passed out from complete and utter exhaustion. She'd worry about the details in the morning. For weeks she'd gone with a minimal amount of sleep, and Broadway performances to top it off. It was safe to say Rachel had reached her limit, and it didn't take long for her to fall asleep at the sound of Quinn breathing evenly, safe for now.

###

"What?" Kurt's disbelieving tone startled Rachel by its volume, and Rachel had to stop herself from jumping.

Rachel glanced toward her bedroom door. Quinn was still asleep in Rachel's bed, thankfully safe. Rachel had been petrified Quinn would disappear again, run away in the middle of the night. Yet, she'd awoken to the sight of blonde hair splayed across her pillow. The withdrawals would start soon, she was sure. With how high she'd been, Quinn had inevitably been binging for the last few weeks, and it frightened Rachel that Quinn could have overdosed, died. She glanced at the door once more before answering the voice screeching at her, "Kurt, have you ever known me to lie about something as serious as this? She showed up last night, or rather maybe before then. She was just there. And ... and I mean... she was high, but she said something about 'they said you'd be here, I found you' as if she'd been looking for me."

"I don't know, this just seems like all kinds of trouble," Kurt warned softly but didn't argue. "She needs help Rachel, but what makes you think she's going to accept it from you?"

"She came to find me," Rachel stated calmly, picking at the counter. "I know it's strange, Kurt, but I can't help but feel this is one of those things destiny throws at us, like a test. How likely is it that two random New Yorkers happen upon each other like that? And how much more likely is it that those two people know one another?"

"Not very."

"Exactly. And I was never lying when I said I was kind of psychic," Rachel bared a half-smile and sighed. "I should let you go. I'm sure she won't be very hungry but I doubt she's eaten in days if not weeks."

"Good luck. See you tonight?" Kurt's hopeful tone made Rachel laugh softly into the reciever.

"Of course. I wouldn't want to deny the audience my amazing talents," Rachel jested quietly before she closed her eyes, "See you tonight, Kurt. Oh, and don't tell Jesse."

"Noted. Is this the 'eventually' thing we talked about?"

"Not yet."

###

Rachel rose from her seat after hanging up the phone, and began cooking a light vegan breakfast - all her food was vegan, so she really didn't have anything else to cook Quinn. She just knew the girl needed proper nutrition if she could ever hope to rebuild her health back up to a necessary level. It didn't take long for the smell of cooking seemed to attract Quinn's attention, for the blonde had stumbled nervously into the livingroom, and stood awkwardly in the livingroom.

"Are those vegan?"

Rachel nodded in response, looking up as her eyes unconsciously searched Quinn for any obvious injury.

"Figures," Quinn stated, but Rachel heard no hint of maliciousness lingering in her voice. Rachel smiled.

She hoped this was a start. As she dished out a plate, Rachel set it down on the counter, offering it nervously as she gestured to a chair, "Have a seat."

"If it tastes like cardboard I'm leaving." Quinn grumbled quietly but didn't seem to complain after she managed to shovel down every scrap of food on the plate. "Are you sure those are vegan?"

"Positive." Rachel smiled in gentle amusement, gladness causing her eyes to sparkle a bit.

Quinn nodded her head.

They didn't talk about anything important, not yet. They shared comfortable silence. Quinn wasn't ready to talk and Rachel wasn't going to push her. Clearly Quinn had been through hell and back but Rachel was only glad that she had been the one to scoop Quinn up from the rubble. Somehow, some strange twist of fate had brought their lives back together, conjoined their fates.

Rachel Berry believed in fate, that was for sure. The brunette watched Quinn quietly as she managed to devour a second plate, after a few moments taking a seat next to Quinn.

"I don't know what you've been through," she murmured quietly after Quinn was finished eating. "I'm not asking you to tell me, but I'm not going to say it's okay for you to disappear. If you're here, you stay, and you stay clean."

Quinn nodded quietly, not responding with anything else.

"I know it won't be easy, but for some reason you're here now, and that has to mean something," Rachel was trying to be as comforting as possible. "It's a clean slate between us."

Again, she recieved a nod in response.

"I hope you eventually tell me, what brought you here, what brought you to this point," Rachel glanced downward, gently pressed her fingers to Quinn's shoulder. "Withdrawal is going to be the hardest part but I've cleared my schedule to make sure you won't have to suffer it alone."

Quinn didn't make any motion, so Rachel took it as a grudging acceptance of the terms being laid out before her.

"It'll be okay," Rachel's tone softened significantly, grasping Quinn's hand to emphasize her presence before she stood up and gathered the dishes. As she turned her back and began to rinse the dishes, she felt a warmth next to her as Quinn wordlessly began drying the dishes Rachel finished.

Rachel glanced over and smiled delicately, her eyes searching Quinn before resuming the simple task of washing dishes. Hopefully this could be a start, and hopefully Quinn would take to the help and company being offered to her, as well as the shelter. Rachel really didn't like the idea of Quinn sleeping out on the streets of New York. It just didn't seem at all fitting. That's just not where Prom Queens were supposed to end up.

All of these things were merely hopes, and though Rachel couldn't realistically see the future, she had to believe in something, so she believed in fate.


	3. Verse 3

**Title**: Savior

**Pairing**: Quinn/Rachel

A/N: So, wow, the response I've gotten so far is way beyond what I expected. Hah, I'm so glad people are taking to the concept so well. I know that when I read Faberry fics I'm more 'comfortable' when the characters are in an environment I'm used to them being in - and also there's the challenge of keeping their characters consistent with what I know about them while completely flipping their worlds totally upside down. And I agree with the comments I got about Jesse St. James, I can't stand him either (sorry, St. Berry shippers) so needless to say he isn't a permanent fixture in Rachel's life. ^_^

_Alibooboo: I'm so glad you love it! I'm looking forward to exploring Quinn's story in depth, too. I have a rough idea but when I write the stories just kind of write themselves, so even I don't know all the details until the chapters are finished, hah!  
>Magician: Ahh, flattery will get you everywhere! I'm glad it's turning out to be pleasurable for you and everyone else reading, I have high hopes for this particular and surprising story.<br>BadGirl762: Thank you! ^_^  
>Jazmin: Keep reading, then, eh? Haha! I'm glad you're enjoying it!<br>Seth: Blush! Hah. Well, I'm glad my fics are awesome. I try to update every day when I can (except that one day the documanager went down), mostly because I'm about as eager to find out what happens next as you guys are.  
>Vaneeeyuh: More flattery! I'm blushing! I'm so glad you're enjoying it and that the storyline stands out among others. It was something that just sort of came out of nowhere and I like the challenge of writing angst. :D Don't worry, I'll be attempting to update every day til the fic is finished, at the very most every other day. Each chapter takes about six hours of writing and editing, but I still like to do daily updates. ^_^<br>xtreme: Don't die! Then you won't be able to finish reading!  
>x: Thank you very much! I'm glad that my writing style is different enough to gain some attention. 3<em>

###

**Verse 3**

_Stood the test of time  
>Though I treated you rough you were always kind<br>I let my head rule my heart now I'm feeling so lonely  
>And I feel it's the deal<br>You're letting me go, gonna go..._

###

"Please don't leave," Rachel's soft plea came before she could really think about what she was asking Quinn. Who was she to ask, or rather insist, that Quinn stay anywhere? She was relatively a nobody in Quinn's life, she'd always been nobody in Quinn's life. The irony of Rachel standing in her own bedroom doorway, pleading quietly with Quinn not to disappear, was not lost on the diva. She had a Broadway show to perform - three more for the week before she'd get a week off to be with Quinn during the most likely torturous withdrawal symptoms she'd be suffering as her body realized it would no longer be getting the chemicals it desperately wanted. Rachel had almost been tempted to call off, but knew that if she continued to call off for no real purpose, she'd be in hot water. As much as Rachel was worried, she wasn't in a position to lose her job, either. Her eyes searched Quinn as the blonde stopped, frozen in the bathroom doorway.

Quinn looked as if she hadn't been expecting Rachel to plead with her, either. She remained quiet, frozen in the doorway, and wordlessly turned her gaze from Rachel's, "Rachel, maybe this isn't a good idea," that stubborn streak continued to show in Quinn. Rachel knew that the blonde was far too proud to accept charity, and letting Rachel take care of her in any way was harder than running away. Rachel knew Quinn, and she knew that Quinn would rather go homeless than admit she needed help.

"That is not up for debate, Quinn Fabray," Rachel raised her chin in a determined way, mirroring her younger, high-school self, her arms folding over her chest. Her strength faltered as her arms slowly fell to her sides, and she closed her eyes tightly as if trying to summon the courage from some far away place only she could reach, "I can't bare the thought of you out on those streets, and I won't watch you throw away your life."

"So don't watch, let me go, Rachel," Quinn's firm gaze seemed to hesitate, falter.

Rachel had an inkling that Quinn was testing her, testing her resolve and her loyalty. It was a test Rachel could more than pass. In some strange way, this girl had earned more of Rachel's loyalty over the years without really having a reason to deserve it. Rachel opened her eyes, sought out Quinn's, "I won't do that."

Quinn fell silent, clearly troubled by the sincerity of Rachel's answer, and she looked a little startled as well. She started toward the bedroom door, determined to push past Rachel and most likely make a run for it.

Rachel's arm shot out before she put any real thought into it, and she caught Quinn around the waist, feeling fists shoving against her shoulders as she shoved her door shut, leaving them both shut in her bedroom for the moment. Rachel withstood every pound of Quinn's fist against her shoulders, her grip firm, eyes closed in concentration as she let Quinn throw her tantrum. The diva felt Quinn pushing hard against her, trying to detach and get free, but Rachel felt no conviction behind her movements. It was instinct, fear; it was Quinn feeling scared and lost.

The struggle ceased, Quinn's weight going slightly limp against Rachel's shorter figure. Rachel didn't let go, instead tightening her grip. In some messed up way, she needed Quinn to stay. Needed to make sure that Quinn was safe. Rachel hadn't really examined her motivations, but she knew that she'd always cared about Quinn in small ways.

And Quinn most definitely needed someone. She needed Rachel, because Rachel was most likely all she had left. Feeling the blonde's weight go slightly limp against her, Rachel knew she had won this battle, the first of many. Her eyes searched Quinn as she gently nudged Quinn's weight upward a little, angling her gaze to make sure Quinn was in one piece. Rachel's brow furrowed in concern, but felt relief when Quinn's soft, pained gaze met her own.

Quinn gave a relenting acknowledgement as she swallowed and nodded her head silently.

"Just 'til you get better," Rachel insisted softly, "then I'll let you go. For now, though, Quinn, you need someone to hold on even when you try to pull yourself free." Her voice was quiet, soothing, and she gently guided Quinn to her bed and sat her down. "If, when you're all better, you want to leave and ..." Rachel swallowed, brown eyes darting away, "never speak to me again, then that will be acceptable because we were never really friends in the first place. I just," her words fell short on her tongue as she saw Quinn listening to her with the most perplexed expression, "I just need to make sure you're okay, and I can't do that until you're better." Rachel's persistance seemed to pay off, for now at least.

Quinn gave her another quiet nod.

It wasn't until Rachel was at the apartment door, ready to leave, that Quinn gave her the first of many gifts she'd recieve in their strange twist of fate. Rachel turned around as she heard Quinn clear her throat a few feet behind her, and turned her questioning gaze to Quinn, who stood awkwardly in the livingroom.

"Can you buy some non-vegan food, then?"

Little steps. Rachel smiled, brightly, giving a nod without seeming too over-eager. Her heart swelled and she felt relief fill her as she left the apartment, knowing that Quinn would still be there when she got back tonight.

Little steps.

###

"So who's this Quinn?" Jesse demanded, his palm causing a solid 'thud' to reverberate through Rachel's dressing room. "The one you so adamantly had to find the other night?" He was wearing a mixture between and scowl and a smirk, studying Rachel's reaction.

Rachel remained impassable, shrugging her shoulders as she cleaned off her makeup, "Well, Jesse, if you had paid attention at all when we were dating in high school, you would have remembered Quinn."

"Wait, don't tell me you're sheltering the one person who was possibly more cruel to you than I ever was?" Recognition passed over Jesse's features and his face twisted in quiet disgust.

Rachel rolled her eyes as she stood, packing her things away to take home for the evening, ignoring Jesse's adamant stare and his demand for answers, "I don't believe I owe you an explanation."

"You two hated each other," his snarky tone had resurfaced, "God, you really are -"

Rachel turned around, eyes flashing with irritation, "First of all, you have no say who I do and do not 'shelter' as you call it, and secondly, do not finish that sentence, Jesse St. James. You wonder why I've demanded some space from you? Look at yourself," she wanted to say more but couldn't find the appropriate words to begin finishing her rant. Her face flushed red with anger and she stopped herself, closing her eyes and taking a breath. "I can't do this anymore, Jesse," the words spilled out, quietly, like a pained admission.

"Can't do what?"

Rachel's eyes opened, seeing absolute disbelief painted all over Jesse's face, "This. Us. It's a joke, and you know it. The mere fact that neither of us really feel anything and we've kept up this ridiculous sham of a relationship," Rachel sighed quietly, "I'm sorry, Jesse. I just can't anymore. And as is appropriate, I'm also releasing you as my manager."

Jesse looked stunned, and remained unmoved for quite some time as Rachel continued packing up her things for the night, "But... you can't do that..."

"I just did, Jesse," Rachel sounded tired, and didn't realize how much this relationship had drained her over time. She felt tired, muscles drained of their energy, "Goodnight. Please don't continue this routine of coming into my dressing room to argue with me," she breezed quietly by his unmoving figure and left, feeling a quiet lifting of weight from her shoulders.

When had it happened? Rachel wondered to herself when things had gone south, when she had allowed herself to be locked in a passionless affair. She delicately ran her fingers through her hair, brown locks falling over her shoulders. She felt as if she could even breathe easier, knowing she didn't have to keep up pretenses.

The brunette knew she didn't necessarily need a manager anymore. When she'd first hired Jesse, they'd been dating and it had just been easier for him to manage her career, because starting off had been difficult. It wasn't easy getting parts in off-Broadway or Broadway productions, when there were so many people vying for a place in Broadway history that there was a reasonable amount of competition. Even for Rachel, who admittedly had vocal talents beyond anyone's scope of expectations.

She was pulled from her thoughts as a cab pulled alongside the curb, Rachel dropping her hand and climbing in. She thought maybe she should feel better, maybe she should feel more joy at having broken up and fired Jesse. Then again, it left her wondering where the real meaning was in her life. She'd attained Broadway stardom, and although those few moments on stage made her unbelievably happy, she also found herself unhappy the rest of the time.

The city passed by, and Rachel wondered if she could possibly find meaning in her life. This situation with Quinn had certainly lit a sort of passion in her heart. Rachel rested her head against the window, staring at the city lights as the cab drove her through the streets of New York, feeling a slight sense of relief that Quinn was waiting back at the apartment.

She climbed out the cab as soon as it stopped, paying and then making her way inside. Her limbs felt heavy as she walked, and Rachel hadn't really realized how absolutely exhausted she was until she unlocked the door and found herself collapsing on the couch, eyes slipping shut, arms splayed to the side.

Rachel had assumed Quinn would be sleeping, but she heard footsteps approaching and felt the couch shift under the addition of more body-weight. She could feel eyes on her, and knew Quinn was watching her with a wordless gaze.

Without opening her eyes, Rachel spoke, "Sorry, I didn't get to the grocery store tonight after the show," her tone was apologetic.

Quinn didn't seem to acknowledge verbally, instead placing a hesitant hand on Rachel's elbow and then withdrawing in a manner that suggested she didn't know if she should be touching Rachel, "Are you okay?"

Rachel couldn't help the tired smile that slid across her lips, "I think I am now."

Quinn didn't inquire any further, although Rachel could still feel Quinn's eyes on her.

"I dumped Jesse," Rachel stated, and felt the impact of her words, finally. She was free from the confines of a relationship that had long made her feel stifled, "and fired him."

For the first time since Quinn had appeared and made her way into Rachel's life, she heard a small laugh come from the blonde, "Sorry, just find it funny that you had to break up with him and fire him. I mean it's not the best idea to date your manager."

Hearing that laugh made Rachel smile quietly, and she opened one eye to peer at Quinn, gently batting at her arm, "Don't laugh at me, Fabray," she teased softly.

Things felt like they were going to be okay. Quinn was still there, she was sober - although soon to be suffering from painful withdrawals - and she wasn't wandering around the dangerous alleyways of New York City. Rachel closed her eyes again, feeling that familiar wave of exhaustion, and without really intending to, she had laid her head down on Quinn's lap, a palm resting on her knee.

Quinn's hand faltered, grazing Rachel's back lightly before Quinn pulled her warm hand away. It took a few minutes of deciding, Rachel realized, because Quinn didn't replace her hand for another few minutes. She really didn't care if Quinn was uncomfortable, Rachel decided, because she was damn tired and in some way, she also felt as if she needed someone there for her. Someone really there for her, besides Kurt. It wasn't until she felt a hand smoothing over her brown locks that Rachel realized Quinn wasn't uncomfortable, just hesitant.

"I'm glad you stayed," Rachel informed Quinn softly without opening her eyes. Her body felt tired, absolutely drained.

"I know," Quinn's voice answered gently, that familiar soothing timbre to her voice that Rachel remembered from the rare few moments of understanding they had in high school.

It wasn't an affirmative or an agreement, but as Rachel lay with Quinn's gentle hand sifting through her hair, she felt momentary comfort and hoped that it was a trend that would continue.

###

"I don't know what you like to eat," Rachel looked a little lost in the grocery store, looking questioningly at things and sometimes recoiling as she read the ingredients on boxes.

Quinn had offered a smile and gently nudged Rachel forward, "Come on, veggiebrain," her tone was gentle, soft, and it caused Rachel to smile in response. They made their way through each aisle, Quinn picking out things here or there that interested her. They didn't talk much at first, but they seemed to ease into conversation after a while.

Quinn wasn't very generous with the information she shared with Rachel. The brunette sensed a heavy amount of shame on Quinn's end, and she could imagine feeling embarassed if someone who'd been your enemy was now your last chance to get out of a destructive lifestyle. Yet, Rachel could sense Quinn becoming more comfortable with her as time passed, and Rachel didn't pry. If Quinn was going to tell her anything, she wouldn't do it if Rachel pushed. That stubborn streak Rachel had hated in high school now seemed to be the key to unlocking Quinn's secrets.

"Thank you," Quinn's voice hesitated in the air.

"You don't have to thank me."

"No, I do," Quinn insisted, and stopped beside Rachel, "you didn't have to help me. And you did. So thank you."

Rachel felt a smile creep across her lips and she slowly nodded, meeting Quinn's thankful gaze, "Well, don't thank me yet." She knew that Quinn had a long way to recovery. It would most certainly not be easy getting Quinn completely sober, especially if Rachel wasn't around to make sure she was staying clean. She didn't know if Quinn would stay, for all Rachel knew, Quinn would stay a few weeks then disappear.

Quinn swallowed, and recognition seemed to flash in her eyes as she followed Rachel into the building. They began putting groceries away, sharing mutual silence, until Quinn hesitated and stopped Rachel.

"I'm so ashamed, Rachel," Quinn breathed the admission quietly, and her eyes cast toward the ground. Her hand fell from Rachel's elbow, and her steely exterior began to melt away before Rachel's eyes.

Rachel didn't know whether to push, or ask questions. Words seemed frozen in her throat. Instead, she offered a comforting touch and searched Quinn's expression, without being too invasive. Her fingers curled around Quinn's elbow as she guided her to the couch. They sat together, quietly for a moment, before Quinn began to speak again.

"After high school I met this guy, it was stupid really," Quinn began, simply. Rachel could tell she was struggling to get the words out, "he partied all the time and I was so miserable that I figured ... I mean, I figured it couldn't hurt if I partied too. I'd already gotten kicked out of my house. Puck tried convincing me I was going down a bad road but I didn't care. It turns out this guy had warrants out, so we travelled out of state. I left Ohio, that was all that mattered to me, so I figured it didn't matter why I left.

"He started doing drugs at the parties, and I was so busy being drunk all the time and being miserable that eventually I started doing it too. I loved the feeling I had, it was the first sense of peace I'd had since .. since Beth," Quinn's eyes began to water and she looked away despite the comforting hand grazing the skin on the inside of her elbow, "and I got lost. I got addicted, and he started beating me like Russell used to, so I ran away with some people I'd known from the circle of friends we partied with. We hitchhiked to New York, and I thought it was the one place I could disappear. I kept doing the drugs, needed them. The withdrawals were unbearable and I just...I was too weak to quit.

"I'd heard, of course, that you were a big Broadway star, and I hoped of all people, I wouldn't run into you. I knew if you found me," Quinn shook her head, looking suddenly very tired. "I knew if you found me, reality would hit. And it did. It came crashing into me and when I left that hospital I was terrified that someone knew me, knew what I had been, and saw me as what I was now."

Rachel digested all of the information for a few moments; the brunette knew that Quinn had more to her story, but she wouldn't pry. She'd at least found out what had gotten Quinn to this point, and that was what she'd needed to know. It didn't slip past her that Quinn had shared a very large part of her struggles with her, and in gratitude Rachel merely covered Quinn's hand with her own, offering a sympathetic gaze.

"I didn't want your pity, or charity," Quinn's tone wasn't bitter or angry, but instead quite full of sadness, "I just wanted heroin, to escape. I binged more than I ever have, somehow ended up asking someone where you were, and they didn't know you so I asked them where Broadway was. I knew, but I was too high to remember. Whoever it was, I don't remember, told me where it was and somehow I found my way there, in that alley. I waited all night, I didn't know if you'd even come out. I didn't know why I was there.

"I was ready to die, Rachel," Quinn admitted, voice breaking as her hazel eyes filled with tears and closed, "but there you were, right when I was ready to get up and find a way to overdose, find something to end it. I couldn't be miserable anymore, I would rather be dead than stuck in the hell I'd created for myself."

Rachel felt her breath falling short, a tightness in her chest, tears welling up in her own eyes. She thought maybe she was trembling a little, a familiar ache in her heart. It seemed as if the person sitting before her was more human than Quinn had ever let herself be years ago, more broken than Quinn would have ever admitted to being.

"Help me," Quinn spoke so softly Rachel almost convinced herself that Quinn hadn't spoken at all - it was the look in her eyes as she drew her gaze to Rachel that confirmed she had indeed spoken.

Rachel's expression softened, "There was never a doubt in my mind, Quinn," she insisted and took Quinn's hand into her lap, hugging it close to her frame.

###

The withdrawal symptoms were the worst part of the whole process. Quinn lay in bed, shaking and sweating, often crying out, and Rachel did her best to soothe her in whatever way she could. It wasn't easy and Rachel didn't know what she could possibly do to help. Often she'd sit by the side of the bed and helplessly watch Quinn struggle with her pain.

This particular night was the worst. Rachel had placed a small garbage bin beside the bed in case Quinn got sick, and was gently rubbing the blonde's back as Quinn rocked herself in agony. Rachel's expression was contorted in concern, and she fought the urge to cry, seeing Quinn like this.

"It hurts," Quinn hissed out between hot tears, and she bucked against Rachel's hand as she sat up. Tears were in her reddened eyes.

"I know, I know," Rachel soothed and gently scooted closer to Quinn, "I know, I'm sorry..." she apologized softly and felt Quinn's clutching grasp shoot out and grab her leg. Quinn collapsed against Rachel's legs as she shook and cried. "Just a couple more hours and it'll go away, I promise. It only lasts a few hours, remember?"

Quinn couldn't respond for a few moments, finally managing to speak, "Sing to me," she asked tearfully, gripping Rachel's leg painfully.

So, for the first night of Quinn's painful withdrawals, Rachel pulled a quivering blonde into her arms and sang gently against her ear, thinking if only she could go back in time, if only she could stop Quinn from going down this road, it would be worth giving up everything for.

Quinn latched herself on to Rachel, still shivering and clammy, but seeming to cry out less as Rachel continued to sing.

###

Hours passed, and finally Quinn's body gave out under the pressure of withdrawal. It was like breaking an impassable barrier, and Rachel was amazed they'd made it through. She was still rocking Quinn quietly, stroking her fingers through Quinn's cropped blonde locks, humming gently to soothe her.

"You're so brave, Quinn," Rachel spoke the words reverently.

"Don't feel it," Quinn murmured exhaustedly, still clutching to Rachel's form.

Rachel shook her head, "I'm not a liar, Quinn."

In some way, Rachel needed this. She needed to feel as if someone valued her, someone needed her. She idly ran her fingers through Quinn's hair, gently rolling over and laying her down on the mattress and covering her with a thin blanket. Quinn was hot, but bathed in a cold sweat at the same time. She'd called the doctor the day before in between rushing to work and leaving home, knowing that Quinn had been suffering from symptoms of pneumonia, judging from the wet cough that rattled her lungs.

"Just delusional," Quinn joked weakly and her eyes fluttered closed as Rachel ran her fingers over her face.

"A little," Rachel smiled gently down at the blonde. She looked aside at the antibiotics prescribed by the doctor, wondering if Quinn would be able to swallow down the medication now that the worst of her withdrawal symptoms for the night were over.

Quinn let out a rattling cough, groaning in quiet agony, and Rachel soothed her before getting up. She got a glass of water from the kitchen, and as she turned around she saw a shaking Quinn leaning in the doorway. Rachel rushed to her side, catching her at the waist before she fell or hit her head on something.

Rachel shook her head, "Hey, you need to be in bed," she murmured simply, balancing Quinn's weight against her as she guided her to bed and helped her lay down, propping her up gently against a pillow. "Medicine," she offered the glass of water, watching Quinn's shaking fingers take the offered glass. Rachel placed a pill in Quinn's palm, "Take it," she instructed softly and watched as Quinn swallowed it down, noting the grimace on Quinn's face, taking the glass from her hand.

"Thank you," Quinn murmured with a trembling voice, her eyes slipping closed.

Rachel watched Quinn silently, looking pained herself as she touched the blonde's cheek. Quinn somehow still looked as lovely as Rachel remembered, even in the throes of withdrawal and pain. She'd lost a little weight but not much, and somehow had maintained her perfect complexion. As she looked down at Quinn's face, she could almost see the girl she knew back in Lima.

Things were remarkably different now, Rachel felt that realization as she watched Quinn slowly recovering her breath. They were both incredibly different people.

Rachel moved to get up, but froze and quietly sat back down as she felt Quinn grasp her hand weakly, "Okay," she murmured softly in response to the nonverbal question in Quinn's eyes as they slid open, "I'll stay."

Quinn nodded, and only let herself drift off to sleep once Rachel had laid down delicately beside her, watchful brown eyes lingering on Quinn as the blonde relented to her exhaustion.

###

It was the last night before Rachel would be allowed a small vacation in order to help Quinn over the next week, and Rachel had just left the stage and entered her dressing room when she heard her phone ringing loudly in her purse. Perplexed, she answered it. It was important, her gut instinct told her.

"Hello?"

"Rachel," Quinn's tearful cries answered her, and fear flooded Rachel. "Can you please come back?'

"Of course, I'm on my way now," Rachel responded without hesitation, not even bothering to change out of her costume as she pushed the door open and practically ran. Waving down a cab, she covered the recieving end of the cell phone, giving the address, before closing her eyes and pressing the phone close to her ear, listening to Quinn's labored breathing, "What happened?"

"I don't know, it hurts, I just want it to stop hurting," Quinn gasped on the other end of the line and the phone clattered to the floor before Quinn's voice answered again, "I can't do this Rachel, I can't do this," Quinn insisted, and Rachel could hear Quinn's teeth chattering together.

"I'm almost there, you can do this," Rachel insisted, wishing the driver would drive much faster, looking nervously out the window. "Quinn, listen to the sound of my voice, okay?"

"Okay," Quinn hesitated through chattering teeth.

"You're going to be just fine. You're going to be fine. You're strong, and you're not alone. Not even close. I'll be there in just a few minutes," Rachel grimaced at the sound of Quinn's pained cries, her heart aching, "We're gonna get through this, Quinn, I swear to you," Rachel felt all the emotion she'd never expected as she spoke those last words.

Quinn seemed to go without hearing her, until she responded with a tearful response, "Promise?"

"I promise."

Rachel had never meant something so completely as she did in that moment.

When the taxi finally stopped, Rachel hurriedly paid the cabby and rushed to her apartment, too impatient to wait for the elevator, instead deciding to dash up the stairwell and she made it to her floor breathlessly. She all but rammed the door in and searched for Quinn, hearing a withered cry from her bedroom. Rachel hung her phone up, having stayed on the entire time to give Quinn assurances, tossing her phone on the bedside table before she took a trembling Quinn in her arms.

Quinn grasped her with a desperation Rachel had never expected, teeth chattering, "You came."

Rachel nodded, and insistently pulled Quinn's gaze to meet hers, "Hey," she insisted with a soft but demanding tone, "Look at me, Quinn." When hazel eyes managed to struggle open, Rachel stroked her cheek quietly, and with a furious determination, she spoke again, "we're going to get through this. I swear to you. You're strong and I know you can do this. I've never had so much faith in someone in my life."

Rachel didn't realize there were tears in her eyes until she felt a shaking hand brush over her cheek, and Rachel clutched Quinn's palm against her cheek. She made a silent promise to Quinn in that moment. No matter what she had to do, no matter how difficult it became, she would get Quinn through this and give her a reason to smile again. Rachel's own fingers trembled as she took Quinn's hand and gently pressed her lips to her fingers, not thinking of the implications and not caring. Quinn needed her.

Quinn's eyes closed again, and Rachel steeled herself for another long night.

###

Rachel woke the next morning, the sun just barely risen over the city of New York. Quinn was draped against her, an arm thrown over Rachel and still holding on tightly. The brunette's eyes sought out Quinn's expression, and saw that for the first time since Quinn's arrival, she was peacefully asleep. Withdrawals had lasted almost all night, but they'd been less intense.

Rachel was scared. What if she couldn't help Quinn? She wouldn't allow the thought to take root; she was Rachel Berry and she could do anything she put her mind to. And Quinn mattered, maybe more than anyone else ever had. Rachel had time to reflect the last few days on her desire to make sure Quinn recovered from her addiction.

True, back in high school they had been bitter enemies, but as Rachel looked back, they had known one another better than anyone else, and given far more attention to each other (albeit negative attention) than they had to anyone else. Rachel couldn't help but feel in some strange way it had all been a matter of fate and not chance. Quinn never really admitted it, when she'd been telling Rachel how she'd gotten there, but Rachel knew that Quinn had chosen New York for a reason, and not just because she could disappear. Everyone in Lima knew Rachel Berry was destined for Broadway, knew where she'd be the moment she graduated. Quinn, her enemy for so many years, had chosen New York out of all the other places she could have gone.

Rachel heard her phone ringing, recognizing Kurt's ringtone, but didn't move from her positioning. She'd call him later. Rachel delicately ran a hand through Quinn's slightly damp locks, watching her with a quiet and perplexed expression. How had fate landed them here, why had Rachel been the one to witness Quinn sprawled out unconscious on the pavement? She knew Kurt would laugh at her if she admitted believing that, but in her heart of hearts, she did.

Quinn stirred after maybe a half an hour, furrowing her brow and stretching subtly against Rachel. Her grasp tightened even as Quinn opened her eyes. Those green depths lingered against Rachel's gaze, and Rachel felt so taken in that moment that she forgot to breathe. In those few moments of silence, they shared something beyond Rachel's comprehension at the moment. It was simple, brief, but the way Quinn was looking at her said something Rachel didn't dare let herself understand right then.

Rachel delicately ran fingers through Quinn's hair, and swallowed. Her heart had picked up a bit, and she glanced away as she began to sit up sleepily.

Quinn refuted not with words, but a hand gently encouraging Rachel to lay back down. The brunette complied, flattening herself against the mattress again. Rachel had to keep her head clear or this could get rather confusing. She felt Quinn's arms wrap around her, the blonde holding steadily to Rachel, who felt her own hands responding by closely encompassing Quinn in her arms.

It wouldn't hurt to stay in bed just a little while longer.

###

Rachel had finally made her way out of bed a couple hours later, urging Quinn to get a shower, suggesting perhaps it would make her feel a little better. She watched Quinn retreat into the bathroom and close the door. Rachel's hand went to her chest as she closed her eyes, trying very hard not to think too much about the strangely emotional moment they'd shared in bed this morning. She made her way into the kitchen after gathering her wits, and began cooking Quinn a non-vegan breakfast. She lost herself in the task, thoughts not passing too often through her mind as she listened to the water running in the other room. Although Rachel detested the smell of bacon and regular eggs, she withstood it as long as it's what seemed to make Quinn happy. In another pan she scrambled some vegan eggs with seasonings, humming quietly to herself.

"Can I help?" Quinn's voice surprised Rachel, who jumped a little. "Sorry," Quinn laughed gently, offering an apologetic smile as she moved to the other side of the sink, "I forgot how jumpy you are."

"Yeah, I guess I'm still afraid of slushies," Rachel teased softly and glanced over at Quinn. "Just have a seat, yours is almost done."

Quinn lingered, as if to say more, but broke away from the counter and sat down at the table. "Rachel?"

Rachel was busily putting Quinn's breakfast on a plate and pouring her a glass of orange juice, and as she set it before the blonde she glanced at her, "Hmm?" Rachel was stilled as she felt Quinn's eyes drop to her retreating hand, and her heartbeat faltered against her ribcage as Quinn's fingers grazed her own, encouraging Rachel's hand in her own for a moment. Rachel felt fear, more than anything. She was afraid of her reactions, the way this felt really good and it shouldn't. Rachel's eyes darted to their connected hands, speechless.

Quinn seemed just as thoughtful, her thumb stroking Rachel's palm and her green eyes searching Rachel's face.

Rachel fought the trembling feeling moving down her arm, and it didn't help matters when Quinn slowly wrapped Rachel's arm around her shoulder and wrapped her own arms around Rachel's waist. Rachel's free hand hesitated in the air before gently reaching down and sifting her fingers through Quinn's freshly-washed hair. Rachel swallowed the knot in her throat, trying to fight everything she was feeling, the way her body was reacting with heat and excited molecules ramming into one another all over her body. Her breathing was even slightly labored. Why did Quinn make her react so intensely, "I-is.." she stumbled over her words, "Is everything okay?" Rachel breathed, hoping her voice wouldn't betray her reaction.

Quinn nodded gently against her, fingers stroking slowly over Rachel's lower back, drawing shapes there. Rachel could almost feel the ghost of Quinn's lips against a section of skin that had been exposed in the embrace, and she gulped again as she was sure that was what she was feeling - Quinn's lips brushing over an area very near Rachel's hips.

Rachel couldn't breathe, and her head swam with all kinds of reactions, her fingers tightening just a little in Quinn's locks. What on earth was happening? Yet, as she felt Quinn's lips ghost over her hip again, Rachel couldn't help the gasp that quietly fell between them. Her heart was hammering and she was pretty sure she was going to pass out.

Quinn's fingers began slipping underneath the back of Rachel's shirt, finding the small of Rachel's back and tracing shapes against goosebumps. Rachel was pretty sure she was starting to pant a little bit as Quinn's lips brushed again over that bare space of skin, this time near the center of Rachel's stomach. What was Quinn doing? Rachel couldn't make any thoughts out as her eyes fluttered shut.

"E-eggs," Rachel finally stuttered out, breathing labored as she opened her eyes. "I have to take them off the stove," she murmured, her words lazily slurring together.

Rachel felt absolutely terrified. She gently disengaged, hoping Quinn would give her breath, give her a moment to register what had just happened. She turned off the stove, her back to Quinn, and as she turned around and placed the eggs in a small bowl, she gasped as she felt warmth behind her again.

Quinn's lips pressed against the back of Rachel's neck, and the blonde's hands were slipping under Rachel's shirt, near her taut stomach, and wandering upward. Rachel's skin was erupting in goosebumps and her head canted forward, fingers gripping the counter.

"Quinn," Rachel pleaded softly, "what are you doing?"

Quinn's only answer was her wandering hands and the kisses that were setting Rachel's skin on fire, as Quinn loosed a hand and slid along Rachel's shoulder, pushing aside fabric and kisses grazing Rachel's shoulders.

"Oh my god," Rachel breathed out, feeling her entire body pleading for more. She had to fight this. It wasn't right, Quinn wasn't better yet and maybe she didn't know what she was doing. Quinn's fingers moved slowly upward, dangerously close to Rachel's bare chest, and Rachel's fingers grasped the counter harder. Quinn was pressing hot kisses all along her neck and shoulder, lips lingering there every time. Rachel could feel Quinn panting softly against her skin each time.

The blonde made things even more difficult as she turned Rachel around, pressing her against the counter, and crushing their lips together. Before Rachel could think, her arms were slipping around Quinn's neck, lips desperately seeking Quinn's heated kiss, fingers knotting in her hair as her torso pressed forward.

Rachel didn't know what the hell she was doing. She didn't know what Quinn was doing, kissing her, seducing her in her own kitchen. It didn't make any sense. Why was Quinn doing this? She felt a tongue glide along her bottom lip and Rachel gasped into her mouth, her fingers grasping Quinn's shoulders.

Languidly, she felt their kisses shorten before they broke away to breathe. Eyes dilated dramatically, Rachel was trembling in Quinn's arms. Quinn was breathing heavily near her lips, occasionally brushing their lips together, barely enough to notice. She couldn't think. She only felt. And what she felt was a flooding of emotion so intense that it caused her to surge forward and capture Quinn's lips again, passionately, tears welling up in her eyes as years of frustration and emotion found their way to the surface.


	4. Verse 4

**Title**: Savior

**Pairing**: Quinn/Rachel

**A/N**: Lyrics used in beginning are from Erasure's "Breathe." ^_^ For those who are surprised at the way things are going, I just want to let you know that it's going to be one hell of a rollercoaster (but well worth the ending). As always I'm striving for realism, and anyone who may have been involved in the life of an addict knows things don't ever go smoothly once the process of recovery begins. I like happy endings though, and there are still five more chapters to go (this one included) before we reach the resolution! So get ready for a bit of a rollercoaster ride. I haven't yet decided how to go in depth with Quinn's darker past, but I'm thinking I may dedicate a verse (chapter) to a flashback of what brought Quinn to this point.

**WARNING: This chapter begins with VERY M-Rated material. Normally I don't add smut into my stories but for this particular plot-line, it's pretty much essential to illustrate the extremes of their particular dynamic.**

_Lilafutbolfan6: Bahahaha, your review made me laugh. I'm glad I shocked and stunned you ^_^ I'm as eager to update as you probably are to read the updates, so rest assured I'm going to try to post once a day if not twice a day (when I can spare the hours, about 6 per chapter).  
>mander5000: Hah, I'm glad you're loving it though!<br>Millene Haeer: Rachel and Quinn's ride is far from over, they'll of course end up together in the end - I love my happy endings - but they are in for quite the ride. Hang in there though! We'll get to see more of Quinn's darker past in a coming verse (chapter).  
>Alibooboo: St. Douchebag, haha, you coin that? ;) I'm glad he's gone too, at least for now. He's like Freddy from Nightmare on Elm Street, though, he'll always manage to come back around to make an annoying appearance or two. Things may get rough but Faberry will win out.<br>dancelikeheya: I actually am planning on involving some Brittana coming up toward the end of the fic. I haven't worked out the specifics but they will be making an appearance. ^_^ Thank you for your generous compliment!  
>xtreme: Yay! Just as long as you don't die. I don't fancy getting put away for murder. ;)<br>jazmin: T_T Don't worry! There's plenty more!  
>BroadwayIsLove: I'm so glad you love it! ^_^ Hopefully you continue to enjoy it.<em>

###

**Verse 4**

_Breathe and I breathe,  
>Hollow without you, I can't live without you;<br>And I'm in love with you_

###

The bacon and eggs remained untouched that morning. Despite Rachel's early onset confusion at why exactly she found herself locked in a passionate exchange with Quinn, when Quinn's fingers starting raking down her back in _that _way, all thinking had been thrown out the window. She could question Quinn's motive's later. All she knew was that Quinn's tongue and teeth were exploring her neck, Quinn managing somehow to lift Rachel up off the counter. Rachel's legs wrapped easily around Quinn's waist, aroused laughter bubbling from her throat before she tangled her fingers in Quinn's hair, kissing her with a fire that was all-consuming. Quinn must have hit the edge of the bed, because Rachel caught herself midair, landing atop Quinn, brown hair falling over her shoulders, lace alight with laughter, skin flushed and breath heavy.

Even Quinn had laughed, her green eyes shining with lust and joy, and a mixture of other emotions Rachel couldn't quite read. She looked just as flushed and breathless as Rachel. Her eyes searched Rachel's face; Rachel's fingertips grazed her cheeks before Rachel leaned down over her, hand moving slowly over Quinn's side. Their breath mingled together, both getting completely caught up in whatever was happening right now.

Rachel didn't want to think, didn't want to analyze. Right now, all she understood was that this felt _so damn good _and she didn't want it to stop. Later, she would wonder if this was always an attraction they'd had for one another. That was for later, though.

The diva's lips brushed delicately, teasingly over Quinn's, a breath of a kiss causing Quinn to shudder underneath her. She could feel Quinn's fingers moving over her thighs, gripping them, and slowly making their way up Rachel's back. It amazed Rachel how vulnerable Quinn looked, just before she leaned down and captured Quinn's lips with her own. She didn't even bother biting back the groan rising from her throat as Quinn rocked her hips upward into Rachel's. They were locked so passionately together that it left Rachel on fire even when she thought they were soothing this burning flame. It turns out, they were only feeding it, making it grow larger. Rachel's teeth grazed Quinn's bottom lip, tugged on it softly - at this, Quinn arched up again and may have moaned Rachel's name quietly. That only encouraged the diva, pressing her weight fully down on Quinn as her tongue sought out its mate, Quinn's fingers now fully digging into Rachel's back.

They remained locked like this for some time, the passionate and luxurious kiss fueling a fire. Rachel felt as if her whole self was aflame, and she groaned, reluctantly splitting from Quinn, still straddling her as she stripped off her shirt unashamedly, grinning quite devilishly as Quinn mirrored this action. Rachel took a moment to admire Quinn's figure, her perfect body, her lust only growing as she lowered her mouth to Quinn's neck. Rachel's fingers found a particularly sensitive spot along Quinn's side, dancing along the eager skin before her hand cupped a firm breast, feeling the way Quinn arched harshly up into her hand. The diva grinned, her tongue tasting Quinn's soft skin before she lowered her kisses ever so slowly, to the point where Quinn was groaning with impatience and absolute arousal. Rachel found a pert nipple, tongue flicking across the puckering surface, biting down carefully. She felt Quinn's fingers lace in her hair, felt Quinn's chest rising and falling beneath her in pants.

"Oh, god -" Quinn finally managed to verbalize as Rachel switched from right to left, "Rachel..."

Rachel thought that was probably the sexiest sound she'd ever heard, and it shattered her concentration and erased all prior thought processes. That's when she knew she was hooked. Quinn was completely powerless in this moment, completely vulnerable. It was the most beautiful thing Rachel had ever experienced. Her ministrations, kissing, nibbling, sometimes sucking, all became more eager, absolutely beyond hunger. Rachel slid a hand down Quinn's side, pushing her pajama bottoms downward, fingers taking in every small space of skin revealed on Quinn's hip, and she started to lower the fabric when she heard Quinn gasping out something about Rachel being a 'cock tease,' causing Rachel to grin and capture Quinn's lips. The burning kiss they shared threatened to devour them and was only intensified when Rachel dared slip a hand lower, pushing aside fabric and trailing over the inside of Quinn's thigh. Quinn inhaled, head falling back in shock as Rachel's fingers moved dangerously close to the source of fire between them. Nails dug into Rachel's back, and Quinn crushed their lips together.

"Please," Quinn begged, moaning into the kiss and rocking her hips forward.

Rachel couldn't stop herself. She was aflame, her passions aroused beyond any known peak. She shouldn't be doing this, not now, it was too soon and too confusing - but damn all that because this was the most intense experience she'd ever experienced. Slipping easily downward, her fingers found an eager nub, flicking across the surface, noting the intensity of Quinn's arousal. Rachel was intoxicated at the first sound of Quinn moaning into her mouth. Her own breathing was becoming as labored as Quinn's, and she could feel their skin pressing together with each forward motion of Quinn's hips. Quinn's fingers slid down to Rachel's wrist, her hand gripping it as if begging for more. Quinn's panted, "yes" and "please" was too much for Rachel to resist. She teased her a little longer before slipping two fingers inside Quinn, delicately exploring before they found a natural rhythm and Rachel's head canted forward on Quinn's shoulder.

She moaned encouragements into the already turned-on-almost-ready Quinn, and this only seemed to intensify the experience. She could feel her own heat unbearably aching, wanting to hear Quinn say her name in a way she'd always dreamed. Her eagerness began to show itself as she began to give in to Quinn's pleas for more, just a little more.

Rachel had never before made love with a woman, but this was beyond pleasurable. It was pure unadulterated ecstacy. She'd never before been so turned on. The way Quinn was rocking against her, begging, her head falling back on the pillow and just begging for Rachel to bring her over the edge, it all made Rachel even more insistent. She drew Quinn's orgasm out for as long as she possibly could, before she found a particularly sensitive spot, curled her fingers, circling inside the most beautiful part of Quinn's body, and felt Quinn's nails rake down her back. It amazed Rachel as Quinn rose underneath her, simultaneously crushing Rachel's bare skin against her own. Rachel knew she'd have marks the next day, but she didn't mind.

As Quinn rode out the sensations, gasping for air, she finally opened her eyes and loosened her grip on Rachel a bit. Rachel delicately and luxuriously drew her fingers out, watching Quinn's legs twitch as she purposefully grazed Quinn over that particularly sensitive bundle of nerves, before she leaned down and captured Quinn in a passionate kiss.

It became a fight for dominance, albeit a playful one, as Quinn recovered herself and Rachel found herself pinned to the bed. The brunette's head fell backward as she felt Quinn's wonderful mouth on all the warmest parts of her skin, felt a tongue flick against her hip, and Quinn's name first slipped from her lips as she felt Quinn sucking on the skin just near her hip. It was like gravity as her fingers slid through Quinn's hair, pleading for more, feeling the blonde easily get rid of the rest of their clothing. She'd never before let herself be so incredibly vulnerable to anyone, yet the look of awe, lust, and love that passed over Quinn's face as she took in every bit of Rachel's bare skin beneath her, made Rachel realize Quinn was exactly the person she had been meant to love, to have this passion with. Quinn's eyes dilated as she lowered her lips to Rachel's stomach, kisses slowly trailing down until Quinn found the source of Rachel's heat.

It was all a blur after that - skin, tongues, teeth, the burying of fingers in hair and mouths devouring one another through the long hours of the day. They continued on long into the evening, stopping only to get water - one got a particularly dry mouth after such a long session of intimacy - before they fell into bed with one another again. That night, when they'd both been spent beyond their limits, as Quinn cried out Rachel's name for the last time, Rachel knew that it had indeed been some kind of strange, twisted fate that they be brought together. It was lust, love, crashing down on them like a tidal wave, and Rachel knew whatever happened, she was swept up in Quinn's life as much as Quinn was in hers.

From that point on, Rachel knew they were entangled in many ways they'd never expected. Maybe in some convuluted way, they always had been. Stuck in a dance of passionate hatred that somewhere along the line turned into passionate lust and love.

Rachel searched Quinn's eyes as they both came down, too exhausted to move, breathless. Her fingers traced over Quinn's neck, throat, and she felt Quinn's fingers thread into her hair and pull her down in possibly the most loving kiss she'd ever experienced.

"I love you."

The words had come from between them, although Rachel wasn't sure which one of them had breathed it. She only knew she was tracing Quinn's mouth with her finger and staring into the eyes of the Quinn she'd always known, the Quinn she'd always been meant to know.

###

Quinn was gone.

Rachel had woken up alone, wrapped in bedsheets, expecting to feel the familiar breathing beside her but instead she found an empty space where Quinn should have been. Panic flooded her entire being. There was no room for thought, no explanation, no warning. Rachel shot up, pulled on her clothing and hoped beyond all hope Quinn was just somewhere in the apartment, or out. Yet something in her knew that Quinn had gotten scared and ran. She held out, searched the apartment and even made an effort to look down the hall as if Quinn would just be out there, coming back from some other place. Rachel's eyes watered as she closed the door, panting against it as she found herself silently crying. Quinn was gone. Who knew where she had gone, what she'd gone to do.

Rachel dialed the police, even though she knew she'd get the rebuttal that she couldn't report a missing persons case for 24 hours. The dispatcher was nice enough to inform Rachel they'd keep an eye out for the girl she'd described; it didn't make Rachel feel any better. She checked her phone even though she knew Quinn didn't have a phone to call her from. She looked through the few things Quinn had gotten over the short time with Rachel, the non-vegan food in her cupboards, and found herself crying all over again.

As Rachel sank into the couch cushions, she felt a flood of memory from yesterday. Quinn had been the one to push boundaries, had been the one to intiate, and Rachel had been swept up. Rachel recalled the perplexed expression Quinn had a few days ago when Quinn had told her not to watch, to just let her go, and Rachel had so adamantly insisted that she wouldn't let her go. Quinn had looked confused, hopeful, a mixture of things. As if she couldn't figure out her own reactions or feelings. Had Quinn been falling in love with Rachel all this time? Had she already been in love with Rachel? In retrospect, it seemed to make sense; such cruel treatment and such passionate hatred had given Rachel more of an emotional feed than any relationship had. It was as if they had been fighting each other for so long, maybe even fighting their own feelings, that it had spiraled out of their control. All the fighting over Finn, or Puck, or whoever they were involved with. Quinn had wanted every boyfriend Rachel had, excluding Jesse, no matter if she had one of Rachel's prior boyfriends or not. It didn't matter. Quinn had always strove to keep Rachel separate from anyone else. Always. Rachel's mind raced with all the possibilities and it clicked, all at once, like a bag of bricks landing right on her gut.

Quinn had always been in love with Rachel, and Rachel thought maybe she'd always been in love with Quinn. In some twisted way they had turned infatuation into hatred and into lust when they finally were in separate lives. Quinn living with her had allowed Quinn's guard to drop, allowed emotions to surface in Quinn that had been long repressed: mourning, depression, desire, need, vulnerability, passion, and trust most of all.

Rachel didn't know if she should regret everything that happened, or if she should feel something else, she just knew she was terrified and Quinn wasn't safe when she was on the streets. She couldn't fight addiction if she was out on the streets again. "Goddamnit, Quinn," Rachel gasped tearfully, her fist pounding helplessly into a pillow before Rachel finally forced herself to rise from the couch. Quinn wasn't going to just disappear on her like that. She wouldn't let her. Rachel had made a promise to get Quinn through her addiction and Rachel Berry never broke a promise.

###

"Sweetie, I don't know what happened or why you're so much more worried about her this time -" Kurt soothed Rachel as he handed her a coffee, walked with her through the streets. His face screamed concern. "I mean, she's a heroin addict, it's not like one week with you was going to change that..."

"Kurt, I know you're trying to help here but...you're just not!" Rachel stated a little harshly as she walked quickly through the streets, eyes darting everywhere looking for any sign of Quinn. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I know you're trying to help," she backtracked, tone softening, "I just need your support without questioning my motives right now. It's just...I'm not going to let her die on the streets and I'm not going to let her believe she's alone or that she can just ... run away," Rachel hesitated, sipping her coffee and closing her eyes, taking a steadying breath after swallowing. "I'm so scared, Kurt. I'm so scared for her."

Kurt had been effectively silenced and gently took Rachel's hand in his own, giving her a comforting squeeze, "I'll look with you until I have to get to work," he offered softly. "We'll find her, I'm sure."

Rachel nodded, determined, as she strode hand in hand, combing the impossible streets of New York City for one solitary individual. The perpetual needle in a haystack. Rachel's heart filled with more panic every time she saw a flash of blonde hair and realized it wasn't Quinn.

As they searched, Rachel ran through everything in her mind. Quinn had left with approximately two changes of clothes, from what Rachel had managed to inventory earlier in the day. She'd also left with a small supply of food that could be brought with if one was planning on travelling. Only a small amount, nothing that suggested Quinn thought much beyond staying gone for a few days. That alone meant there was a chance that Quinn would either return or Rachel may find Quinn somewhere nearby. Statistics had shown, as Rachel had researched after inventorying her clothes and food, that people tended to return to familiar places and didn't stray far from a safe place - it was a survival instinct - although Quinn may want to get away from Rachel and feel as if she was freeing herself, it was human to stay somewhere that would be easy to access a method of survival.

Kurt jarred Rachel from her thought, gently squeezing her hand before letting go. "Perhaps we should split up, canvas the area a little more thoroughly?"

Rachel nodded simply and recalling she'd drawn out a map of the square miles of likely areas Quinn would be in. It looked daunting, but with two people splitting up to look, they'd cover the area quicker, "If you go in this area, then meet me back at this intersection, then we'll probably at least find some kind of clue."

Kurt looked a little daunted, but nodded simply, "Meet you there," he stated softly, motioning to his cellphone, "I'll text or call if I find anything."

"Thank you," Rachel emphasized her gratitude by squeezing his hand and splitting apart, hurriedly making her way down the sidewalk. They had a lot of ground to cover and Rachel wanted to find her within 48 hours of her disappearance.

The likelihood was not very high, but it was the only window of opportunity to make sure Quinn didn't disappear, or what was worse - overdose and possibly lose her life to the struggle of addiction.

The sun began to set, with no sign and no hope. Rachel made her way slowly through the crowd of people heading home from long days of work. Rachel was crushed. She'd experienced something beyond beauty with Quinn, something beyond any idea she'd ever had of what it meant to feel in love. She'd seen it in Quinn's eyes, heard it in her gasps and felt it in the way Quinn had captured her lips so lovingly, so many times. She had originally made the promise to Quinn to help her purely out of compassion, but it had quickly turned into something beyond Rachel's understanding. In the short time she'd been a part of Quinn's recovery, Rachel had remembered feelings she'd long buried and repressed back when she was still captain of the glee club.

Rachel was jarred from thought as someone bumped into her shoulder, and she murmured an apology before numbly making her way to the intersection she needed to meet Kurt at. She saw the boy, standing with an apologetic smile, and nodded in greeting, crossing the street and looping her arm in his.

"I'm exhausted," Kurt stated softly, "and I have to head to work."

Rachel nodded, tearfully, "I have to find her, Kurt," Rachel whispered. The thought of Quinn spending the night on the streets was painful to Rachel, and she didn't know how she could possibly sleep tonight knowing Quinn wasn't safe. Knowing Quinn was probably not sober.

"Get a little bit of rest first, then start again," Kurt suggested knowingly.

Rachel numbly agreed. She'd try her best. If it meant sacrificing sleep to find Quinn, she'd do it, but somewhere in the back of her mind the logical voice won over. She needed to rest in order to be completely alert for any sign of Quinn. She took out the picture she'd kept in her purse in looking for Quinn the first time she'd disappeared since their fated and quite literal run-in. Running her thumb over the image sadly, she swallowed the knot in her throat, Kurt's arm around her the only thing keeping her from collapsing in the middle of the sidewalk and breaking apart.

###

The last thing Rachel wanted was to have to discuss the current situation with Jesse, but when he showed up at her doorstep that next morning, she'd opened the door praying it was Quinn somehow magically reappearing. She'd looked crestfallen when she saw Jesse's smirking face.

"So wanna go on a date?"

Rachel fumed, "Excuse you?"

Jesse rolled his eyes, invited himself into the apartment, and began rifling around. He spotted the mass of papers and maps and charts and graphs on Rachel's coffee table. "I want to take you to dinner."

"Are you perpetually brain-damaged, Jesse St. James? I dumped you and fired you so the way I see it, you have absolutely no grounds on which to be here right now and I insist you leave because I have important and pressing matters to attend to!" Rachel all but shouted as she shoved Jesse away from her papers, "Don't touch those!"

Jesse looked offended, pulling back and holding a hand up, "Wait a second, what is all this?"

"It's none of your business," Rachel immediately reorganized the papers in a panic. "I told you to leave, now please kindly do so."

He scoffed, backed up a couple steps, "Are you looking for your lost Cheerio?"

"Get...out." Rachel emphasized, advancing on Jesse and shoving him by the shoulders, "Now!"

"Oh, so it wouldn't interest you if I said I'd seen her in a cafe last night begging for scraps of food?" Jesse quirked an eyebrow, laughing maliciously as he saw Rachel's expression twist in confusion.

Rachel stopped in her tracks, "You're lying."

"Nope."

"Where?"

"Only if you tell me you'll go on a date with me."

Rachel lost it, "This is not a laughing matter, this isn't some joke, this is a girl's life at stake!" Her voice barked as she violently shoved Jesse backward, angry, eyes brimming with frustrated tears, "Tell me where!"

"God, please remove your hands from this shirt. It was at least 900 dollars and I don't want it wrinkled," Jesse peeled Rachel's hand from his shirt, "Relax. Like I'd actually keep that information from you. It was at the Chicago Style Deli on 123rd St and 5th," he rolled his eyes. "Since I won't be getting that date -"

"Get out, get out, get out!" Rachel shoved him out of the door, tracing down the cafe on her maps before rushing out of her apartment.

###

"Yeah, she was in here last night, at least that's what the waitress from the night shift said. Your friend had been banging on the door and begging for her to let her in and give her some food. Girl was obviously out of her mind, eyes were half-open and she looked like she'd just gotten done with a binger," the overaged male behind the counter leaned on the surface, studying Rachel's face, "so uh, what's she to you?"

"That's irrelevant although I appreciate your interest," Rachel rattled off quickly, shakingly putting the picture away in her purse. "Did you happen to have any information, maybe which way she left or where she appeared to be headed?"

This was her only lead, her only shot at finding Quinn. Rachel had to find her, had to get her off the streets and make sure she stayed off the streets.

The man appeared to be deep in thought, "Not that I remember. I mean the waitress said she took off down the alley behind our -"

He didn't get the last word out before Rachel took off, the door clanging shut behind her as she made her way down the alley, along the back of the building. She searched for every sign she could, hurried along the damp streets, pleaded to the skies that she'd see some sign of Quinn. Rachel kept whispering pleas, prayers, anything to give her a chance.

She at least knew where Quinn had been the night before. This gave her a shot, a small chance that Quinn wasn't lost to her. She combed the streets, pleading for a sign.

It took two hours before Rachel started to come anywhere near progress. It was a discarded wrapper from a vegan candy-bar. It was small, but it was something, and as Rachel clutched it in her palm, she searched the area around her for another sign. Nothing. Kurt had been calling and texting but she hadn't had the energy or the emotional availabilty to manage a response to his questions.

She'd find Quinn if it killed her. Rachel spent the entire day swathed in a light sheen of sweat, tirelessly moving along the alleyways connecting to the one Quinn had been seen. She found the occasional bread crumb to direct her further. Scraps of wrappers here and there that Rachel knew had come from her place, come from Quinn's hands. Rachel clutched on to every wrapper like the last scrap of hope, the last ray of light in an ever-darkening cave.

Her feet began to ache around 6 pm, and she'd finally taken a seat on metal trash can, head buried in her hands. She heard a male voice greet her, "A lot of pretty ladies in these alleys lately," and as Rachel looked to see the source of the voice, she saw an older gentleman looking at her without any hint of predatory desire.

"Oh?" Rachel inquired further. Had this man seen Quinn?

The older gentleman nodded, "Yes," he seemed very matter-of fact. "A little blonde thing has been sleeping in one of the squatter warehouses. She's been bringing me food. Sometimes we sit and talk, other times she just brings me my food til one of them dealer boys comes to find her. I don't think she should be doing those drugs though. Bad, bad things. Bad for her." The man rattled off to himself quietly, shook his head, "Talks about her baby, the baby she gave up."

Rachel's hands shook, "Sir, this.. this warehouse you were talking about. Would you be able to tell me where it's at?"

The gentleman nodded, pointing down the alley, "Just past this street, go right and you'll see an alley marked off with construction cones. Building's fallin' apart, see, so they have to block it off."

Rachel nodded hurriedly, "Thank you, thank you," she gasped out, kneeling in front of the man and shoving three hundred dollar bills in his hands. "Please, take this. You may have just saved my friend's life, thank you so much."

The man looked at his palms in disbelief, "Gee, Miss, you really don't have to do that..." he hesitated as if afraid of such kindness.

"I do, I really do. Please, take it. And if you ever ... if you ever need anything, I uh...I work at Broadway...in the production of Rent this season."

The man shook his head, holding up a hand, "Miss, this is all a self-respecting gentleman needs," he motioned to his small pile of books and various canned foods. "Although this money you gave me will most certainly help me last a little longer."

Rachel nodded simply, smiled, and watched the man for a second longer before her legs found their motivation and she ran down the alley, nearly stumbling over the cones the man had mentioned as she rushed to find the warehouse he'd spoken of. Various graffiti tags marked the largest building, ignoring the crushed glass beneath her feet as she stepped inside the warehouse, pushing aside the tilted wooden door blocking the entrance. Inside she could hear various voices, a few groans, a few shouts.

Rachel knew she was walking into a potentially dangerous situation but that thought meant nothing compared the the knowledge Quinn could be here. She could find Quinn, get her off the streets and maybe this time, keep her off the streets. She stepped over a few individuals that seemd drugged up or passed out, and nervously ducked her head as she saw one of the people approaching her.

"Say...you look out of place," the man slurred, stank of alcohol. Rachel politely rebuffed his comment and picked up her pace. Would she find Quinn here? A staircase lay at the end of the warehouse, partially rusted away, but she could clearly see silhouettes against the metal netting above her head. There were people up there. Maybe Quinn.

She heard the man behind her continue pursuing her, heard him stumble and fall, then cursed in a stupor.

Rachel stepped uneasily onto the stairs. Somewhere above her she heard a familiar laugh, only a slightly slurred version. Rachel's heart leapt and she forgot all about the fact the stairs were rusting and she could potentially fall onto a very hard cement floor that was littered with broken and stained glass. It didn't matter, all that mattered was Quinn.

She nearly tripped over a young boy, passed out with a needle sticking out of his arm, concern passed across her face and she searched the metal catwalk for Quinn. There was a group of people lazily hovering over foil, a shared needle resting near a small pool of residue.

That was when Rachel saw Quinn. Clearly, Quinn had just shot up, and her head canted forward before the blonde settled back against the very unstable railing behind her. Her eyes slipped shut, rolled back, and she gasped quietly as tears flooded her gaze.

"Quinn," Rachel merely whispered, and moved across the surface, unaware of anyone else. "Quinn you have to get out of here, Quinn," Rachel insisted as Quinn was within earshot. Rachel found herself stepping over another boy, the group eyeing her with hazed looks as if they weren't sure what they were seeing.

Quinn lazily rolled her head forward, opening her eyes, "I'm dreaming," she murmured, her words rolling together with the effects of the heroin. A stream of blood had begun a trail down Quinn's arm. Rachel shook her head in disbelief and sorrow as she pulled Quinn to her feet and began to guide her down the catwalk.

"I'm getting you out of here," she wasn't giving Quinn a choice. She hurriedly got Quinn down the stairs before Quinn even seemed to register she was moving.

The blonde's glazed expression rolled toward Rachel, "You smell like Rachel," Quinn murmured as she almost fell over. Rachel's hands steadied Quinn and guided her across the floor.

"I am Rachel," Rachel didn't know if she was fighting tears from relief, anger, or sorrow, but she imagined the most likely response was that she was fighting tears for all those reasons combined.

"You are?" Quinn lazily hummed the response and stumbled again, Rachel's hands catching her once more.

Rachel swallowed nervously, "Yes, Quinn."

"Oh...I don't know about that. I think I'd know if you were Rachel," Quinn fought the grasp at her elbow and she panicked, "I don't know you."

Rachel felt hot tears on her face, "You do, damnit!" She hadn't intended on speaking so harshly, but there it was, hanging between them before she pulled Quinn along after her. "You were Quinn, HBIC, my enemy, but somehow my everything and you know me, you know me," Rachel insisted and she dragged her carefully out of the warehouse. She pulled her along before forcing Quinn to meet her eyes. "Look at my eyes, Quinn, listen to my voice. Remember that day you called me and you were in pain and you asked me to come back? Remember I told you to just focus on my voice?"

Quinn's expression softened and she looked at Rachel inquisitively, "Oh," she whispered softly. "Oh." She stopped struggling and she slowly moved foward, toward Rachel.

Rachel felt tears stinging her eyes still, sniffled, "Come on, I'm taking you home."

###

Quinn had passed out shortly after Rachel got her home. Tearfully, Rachel had called Kurt and asked him to come over, because she was too tired and emotionally overwhelmed to know what the hell to do. In a span of less than a week, she had realized Quinn Fabray had always been in love with her, or at least was now, made love with Quinn, and lost her.

And then she'd found her again, and maybe that was the most important part of it all. Rachel had been watching Quinn sleep, petting her hair gently and occasionally pressing a kiss to her forehead when she seemed to be particularly upset. Quinn would probably sleep for at least another eight hours, and Rachel had waited patiently for Kurt to arrive.

When she finally heard a knock at the door, she quietly rose from the bed and rushed to the door, letting Kurt in and hesitating before her face crumpled with sorrow.

Kurt 'tsked,' murmuring, "Sweetie," before he wrapped her up in a hug, Rachel sobbing quietly into his grasp. "Why are you crying? Because you found her or because she was doing drugs?"

"I don't know," Rachel sobbed gently. She felt Kurt's hands gently smoothing over her back and she needed it. She needed to know she wasn't alone. "I can't let her get lost again, I can't. Kurt, you don't understand, I can't."

Kurt hushed her gently and managed to convince her to lay down on the couch. Rachel watched him disappear a little later, she assumed to check on Quinn. As he sat down on the arm of the couch and ran a soothing hand over Rachel's shoulder, he looked down at the brunette, "Who would have thought the HBIC would have ended up the way she did?"

"I should've known," she whispered softly, shaking her head. "I should have known back then. She was always in so much pain, that's why she was so cruel, I should have known."

Kurt sighed, "Honey, as much as you wish you could have, you couldn't have stopped it. You can't take anything back. You can only change what you do now."

"I have to protect her."

"So do it."

Rachel nodded in agreement, eyes lingering on her bedroom door, knowing Quinn was asleep. After a while, she and Kurt fell into comfortable silence and the brunette eventually took a short nap. She'd woken up, checked on Quinn, and proceeded to do the same every hour on the hour.

Kurt had been watching with an interested expression, and as Rachel returned sometime in the middle of the night, he regarded Rachel carefully, "So what am I missing?"

Rachel glanced over, sitting down beside him, "What do you mean?"

"You're playing nurse to your mortal enemy," Kurt gave her a knowing look. "Granted, we were all in high school in rural Ohio but that doesn't mean this is normal behavior."

She swallowed, glanced down guiltily at her lap. "I don't know. I just felt like I had to help her. And slowly I just ... we just ..."

"Oh my god," Kurt gasped dramatically, "you broke up with Jesse, this much I know because he's been walking around like an angry stork for days, and .." Rachel watched as the pieces fell together in his mind, and she merely waited, "You two haven't.. I mean that's just impossible because Quinn was captain of the celibacy club minus the pregnancy and straight as an arrow. Tell me I'm wrong."

Rachel furrowed her brow and chewed on the inside of her lip, "I must not tell lies," she murmured simply.

"Oh.. ew.. oh god."

Rachel shot him a dark glare, "Please, Kurt."

"Are you .. in love with her?"

She nodded, "Affirmative," she admitted, her heart racing at the admission. "I don't know how it happened."

Kurt was still looking at Rachel as if she had grown another head, "Uh, I mean you took your clothes off, I assume," Kurt stated pointedly, his face twisting in slight disgust.

Rachel glared, sighing, "And I think she's in love with me."

"Duh," Kurt rolled his eyes, "I mean, okay I did say that whole thing that she was straight as an arrow but I didn't think she'd ever stop being a pressed lemon," he quirked an eyebrow. "She was totally obsessed with you in high school, obviously that's a clue."

Rachel sighed, held her head in her hands. "I mean that's not even the most important thing. She has to get sober or she's going to kill herself. There's nothing I can do. Nothing."

"You can protect her," Kurt's voice comforted Rachel. Just as the brunette rested her head on his shoulder, she heard movement in her bedroom and she whipped her gaze around to see Quinn standing in the doorway.

Rachel all but leapt from the couch, searching Quinn for any sign that she wasn't okay, and Quinn took in the sight of Rachel first before her hazel eyes fell on Kurt.

"Kurt?"

"Hello, Quinn," he waved delicately and smiled. "Glad to see you're still alive."

Bad joke, Rachel's glare seemed to say as she looked at Kurt, and she felt completely protective of Quinn. Yet, Quinn was smiling a little at the joke and Rachel realized it was okay as Quinn slipped her hand over Rachel's arm for a moment.

Rachel searched Quinn's eyes, then glanced at Kurt. "Uhm, Kurt?"

"Leaving. Right. See you all soon," he gave another small wave before he got up from the couch, fixing his hair and vacating the apartment.

Sure that he was gone, Rachel shoved Quinn down onto the couch, eyes alight with anger and sorrow, "How dare you, Quinn Fabray! How dare you do that to me!" Rachel refused to let herself cry right now. "You ... I made a promise to you! I told you I'd help you get better and my only stipulation was that you remain here! You disappeared on me!" Rachel was practically shouting.

Quinn, apparently feeling appropriately reprimanded, had tears streaming down her cheeks the instant she realized how furious Rachel was, how much she'd hurt her. Reacting as Rachel may have expected her to, Quinn stood, fists balled at her side, "What, Berry, does it bother you that someone didn't follow your instructions or expectations?" HBIC was coming out to play, her tone as biting and viprous as ever. "Just because things happened it doesn't mean that you're allowed to call the shots in my life! I told you to let me go, I told you not to watch. I told you I was weak."

"No, Quinn! You're not weak!" Rachel shoved Quinn back, watching the blonde stumble backward, once again forced to sit on the couch. "You're just afraid!"

"Afraid of what, Berry? Huh, RuPaul, don't have any answers now do you? For all your knowledge you don't know shit about what I've been through, what I deal with every day! Do you know how hard it is to quit something like heroin? How hard it is -"

"To lose the person you love? Yeah, I know a thing or two about that," Rachel's voice was significantly quieter, all the old nicknames stinging Rachel more now that they were adults and had momentarily been lovers.

Quinn was relatively silenced, staring at Rachel in disbelief.

"What, don't want to add ManHands to the pile?" Rachel's tone bit at the air, and she threw the pile of graphs and maps at Quinn, the papers flying and drifting to the floor. "This is what I did to find you, every paper was hours of research and mathematics and graphs and figuring out where the hell you'd gone! Waking up alone, I've done that before, but waking up alone knowing that you might have gone out there to overdose because the person you love is too afraid of happiness to stay?" Rachel all but sobbed, watching the last bit of paper fall to the floor, her livingroom now covered with maps and charts and graphs. "I can't make you stay, Quinn. I can't. I can't make you get clean, or give you a reason to get clean. Only you can do that." Rachel was now crying, angry, sad, but mostly angry with Quinn. Afraid of losing the person she'd come to love over a long, strange journey from enemies to strangers and suddenly lovers.

Quinn's hard surface cracked after a long few moments of silence, as she rose and tried to reach out for Rachel's shoulders, to talk to her. Rachel pulled away and Quinn looked stung.

"Don't you touch me," Rachel sobbed. "Don't," she jerked as Quinn again advanced on her. Rachel couldn't fight it a third time as Quinn's strong grip enveloped her. Much like Quinn had fought her that day, Rachel pounded her small fists and pressed them against Quinn's shoulders to make her let go, but Quinn wouldn't. Rachel realized maybe she, too, needed someone to hold on to her when she was trying to free herself. In some strange way, they were experiencing the same thing on both sides. Rachel collapsed against Quinn.

Quinn's quiet sniffles and trembling told Rachel that Quinn was crying, "I'm so sorry," Quinn pleaded in her apology, begged for forgiveness, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

"I thought I'd lost you, I thought you'd died or were going to and oh god," Rachel couldn't continue as she sobbed, holding on to Quinn with even more desperation than usual.

"I know," Quinn was holding onto Rachel with the same ferocity.

"Please don't leave," Rachel begged, quietly. "Please, please, Quinn, you can't leave me, you can't go out there to die, to kill yourself just to forget what it's like to feel anything."

"I feel too much."

Rachel loosed her arm from their position and she wrapped them around Quinn's neck, burying herself against Quinn and holding on to her as if she was petrified. In reality, she was petrified, of her own feelings, of losing Quinn, of spending another amount of time combing all of New York City for the person she was trying to save.

"You can't be my savior," Quinn breathed, pain in her voice.

Rachel clutched tighter, "But I can try."

How could they do this? Could they do this? Rachel had so many questions, so many lingering worries. Quinn had clearly shown that she could indeed disappear on Rachel without a thought. The pull of her addiction was greater than anything else, perhaps. Rachel didn't know what to do. For the first time in Rachel Berry's life, she didn't have the answers.

"Okay."

###

The second gift Quinn gave Rachel was a pamphlet. She'd quietly presented it to Rachel, eyes cast to the ground. Rachel had folded it open, examining it with a sense of disbelief.

"It's a weekly meeting. For recovering heroin addicts." Quinn gulped, closing her eyes. "I don't want to die," she whispered, brow creasing painfully. "They also have a detox program. It's about a week. They keep you in a sort of facility and help you through withdrawals and clean out your system with some kind of medication."

Rachel blinked in disbelief, looking again at the pamphlet as if she had to make sure what Quinn was really saying was something important, something meaningful. Rachel searched her face with a gentle gaze, ran her fingers carefully over Quinn's face, drawing Quinn's eyes to meet her own, "Is this what you want?" She indicated the pamphlet, slipping it into Quinn's hand again.

"Yes."

Rachel's hands flew to Quinn's face, pulling her into a slow, passionate kiss before she began to press feather-light kisses over every bit of Quinn's face, until Quinn was smiling and laughing softly at her lover's attention, "I'm so proud of you," Rachel stated finally, tears cascading quietly, "I'm so proud of you." She kissed her again, softly, delicately, felt Quinn smile tearfully against her lips.

"Don't give up on me," Quinn breathed.

Rachel had never given up on Quinn, and she wasn't about to now. The process of recovery would be a long, arduous road, but Rachel was ready for it and she felt overwhelmingly glad that Quinn was ready too. Rachel's arms gently tightened around Quinn, and she rested her head against the crook of Quinn's neck, stroking the soft skin at the back of Quinn's neck, listening to the gentle sound of Quinn's breath rising and falling against her.


	5. Verse 5

**Title**: Savior

**Pairing**: Quinn/Rachel

**A/N**: Opening lyrics courtesty of Erasure's "Breathe." I'm sorry it's taken me a few days to finally get around to writing this verse! I spend about the last three or four days having a blast with my sister - all of which ended up with an epic water baloon ambush on our mother. And imagine, we're in our 20's! LOL. Anyway, so I've been busy with a bit of summer fun. All that aside, this chapter is going to be the exploration of Quinn's dark past that everyone's been waiting for. That being said, this chapter is M-Rated because of the subject of drug use. It's going to cover where Quinn started, how she ended up in New York, and the reasons that you may have already guessed at. ^_^ This will be from Quinn's point of view, as to give a more intimate idea of how Quinn has ended up in the state she's in.

_Vaneeeyuh: You flatter me, really! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story and I'm glad it's eliciting real emotional reactions. That's the purpose of art, right? Even if it is in a very common media. ^_^ Thank you so much for your wonderful compliments, I can't tell you how much it means to me.  
>FicAddy: Hahah, well I'm glad this fic pulled you in! I write everything with a glimmer of hope, though in my life have experienced all the kinds of darkness I write about in this story so it makes it easier for me to write realistically about it.<br>TieYouUpInMyShoes: Not a strange question at all! Quinn has yet to be tested for HIV but as part of the detox program she'll be tested. I like happy endings, but that's all I'll say as to whether or not she's HIV positive.  
>Grangergirl22: Thank you so much for the compliments! Rachel is definitely Quinn's rock in this case.<br>ch3lsk0: I'm so glad you like it! Realism is my main goal, and I can write a dramatic story much better than I write a fluff story, lol. The journey isn't over yet, but we're halfway there!  
>xtreme: Haha glad you approve!<br>Curious: Quinn is very lucky to have Rachel. I won't give everything away but as I've said, I like happy endings. ^_^  
>Bad_Girl762: I'm glad you're enjoying the pace! I don't like formulaic plots and stories you can totally predict. ^_^<br>Jazmin: Hahah, lfkdjasjdkgjdslgjksldjg to you too! ;)  
>Alibooboo: I'm so so glad you love it! It's good to see your name pop up again!<br>Lilafutbolfan6: Thank you! I'm sorry that this update took so long to get around to, I should be back to my 1 chapter a day from today on.  
>sdmwd1115: I'm so glad you like it! I hope you at least got some work done? Hahaha. Thank YOU!<br>SabotageMonkey: Oooh, I almost got tears out of the audience, this is a good thing. ;) I'm so glad you're enjoying it and again apologies for not being able to update until just now.  
>lostsunsets: Rachel Berry always gets what she strives for! :) And in my shipper heart Rachel will always be wanting to help Quinn redeem herself.<em>

###

**Verse 5**

_Breathe I believe  
>Empty without you I can't live without you<br>And I'm in love with you_

###

She never really knew how you felt about her. I mean, it would only take so many insults to break down a potential bond of turst. She never knew how you watched every single performance, and nearly cried every time. You knew she saw you, sometimes saw the look in your eyes, but you were so good at shutting down that often times you noticed her second-guessing her analysis of the way you might have just been looking at her. She was bound for Broadway and you were bound for ... mediocrity. Hell. Tartarus. That's what Lima always had been. The only thing that had been worthwhile was her, even if when you did see her she'd instinctively cover her head for fear of a slushie shower. There was one time where you nearly explained to her why you acted that way, why you couldn't be kind to her. It was the time she'd arranged that they all sing to you so you knew you weren't alone. You thought she'd never looked so beautiful as she did in that moment, when she was facing you and singing right to you, those impossibly dark eyes searching your heart. That's the only time you _really _let yourself cry in front of Rachel Berry. You couldn't do it again though, not after that. You were afraid of what Lima would think, what everyone would think if they even had a hint of the softness you held. Besides, they would have percieved you as weak and HBIC couldn't be weak. Even when you were cast to the bottom of the social ladder, you still had to be strong, silent as steel, impassable.

You were best at that, but it killed you more and more, everytime she cried because of you, everytime she extended that offer of friendship and you laughed it off. You crushed her under your heel but she kept trying to befriend you, kept caring about you. It got harder every time. When you were all in New York, she'd never looked so beautiful, and you knew this is the place she was destined for. Nationals had been lost, of course, and she looked crushed. You wanted to kill Finn for losing it for her. She deserved to see her high school dreams come true. Finn was an idiot, and for some reason he was the one Rachel chose to finish high school with. You knew they wouldn't last, of course, but he had her and you didn't and that killed you inside. You had secured your place as Rachel Berry's enemy, and that was what you had to do. Even if you had been nice, you would've just been her friend. Rachel loved Finn. And you loved her, but she'd never know that, you made sure of that. It would have killed you more to be her friend than to be her enemy. At least as her enemy you encited passionate responses from her and that ... that was something.

So as soon as you all graduated, she left the week after. You'd come to her house, ready to spill everything after all these years, and she was gone. What made you think you could've repaired any of it? You'd retreated into your hole, spent a year and a half in junior college until you met this guy, he called himself Scooter. He was a little bit like those stoners you'd seen in high school that liked to sit by the dumpster and roll blunts before class. At that point your mother had put so much pressure on you that you reached that inevitable stage of rebellion. Rachel was gone, far away from where you were, and you were just a bad memory. Worthless, really. So you started partying with him and hitchhiking to nowhere. Your mother would call your cell phone every day, that is, until you chucked it in Lake Michigan on one of your road trips with Scooter and some other stoners. You remember smiling that day, more than you ever had, as you puffed and held the smoke in your chest until you couldn't anymore. You remember feeling free. And that's when you were hooked. You and Scooter picked up this one brunette, she called herself "End" and you thought she looked a little like Rachel would have if she was taller. You fell in love with End, only because she looked so much like Rachel.

It was that final party just on the border of Pennsylvania that split you and Scooter up, but it was also the first time you tried heroin. Up until then you three had just been hitting different parties, getting drugs, but mostly pot. You never tried anything else really. That night you were so drunk that End was lifting you out of your chair to take you to the bathroom. Scooter was off fucking some girl in the corner, they'd both done a popper, and you remember End smelled like pot and Jack Daniels and it was so nothing like what Rachel would ever smell like. End had sat you down on the edge of the tub, and you couldn't see her face too clear and she sounded a little bit like she was talking underwater. Next thing you knew she was tying some rubber thing around her arm and saying that you had to try this, just as her head lulled backward against the marble wall and she dropped the needle. You'd never done heroin before, but the way she looked laying against the wall like that, you thought maybe it'd help you forget the fact your heart left Lima and was living in New York, remembering you only as her enemy, never having known that she was always your everything, she just couldn't be. You'd almost fallen off the tub when End offered you another needle and limply motioned for you to tie off your circulation. It'd taken a few tries before you got it, and the needle sank into a vein. All at once you were flooded with absolute perfection. There was no other way to describe. Your limbs felt as light as air and your head was swimming and the next thing you know you were passed out in the tub with End laying on top of you. You'd awoken to that curtain of brown hair and said Rachel's name, but End had merely groaned and looked at you full of confusion.

It was easier to forget when you shot up, easier to be okay, easier to forget the sound of Rachel's voice or the way she cried so openly and unashamed. She was probably a totally different person now, and you were probably forgotten, a bad memory to be erased. So you kept shooting up, and the one time you called home, Puck had answered and barely recognized your voice, although he sounded worried for you. He'd asked where you were and you said you didn't know but you weren't coming back. You vaguely remember Puck begging you to come home, telling you he was afraid of whatever you were doing, but the payphone had run out of time before you could formulate a response. And to be honest, you're not sure if you ever had a response. Lima wasn't home. You had no home. You slept on park benches, walked along alleys with End and Scooter looking for the next dealer, the next way east. Soon, Scooter told you that he needed you and End to start doing some "favors" so you all could afford your fix. Both of you refused, but he insisted, and soon everytime he brought it up you got beat. He'd put you in the hospital before End begged you to run away with her. She looked so much like Rachel when she begged that you couldn't help but say yes. You'd both found a way east, and you were somewhere in between Pennsylvania and New Jersey when you saw a sign above the highway. It said "New York" but it might as well have said "Home" because that's where your heart was, in New York singing on a Broadway stage.

Even though you made it to New York together, End started to get scared when you were doing more and more just to get a fix, just to get a high. You kept telling yourself that you weren't addicted but after two years it was inevitable. You were addicted and you needed that fix, especially knowing where you could find your savior but at the same time so sure that she would look down at you in disgust that you clung to End instead in the middle of the night when you were trying to suffer momentary withdrawal.

Soon things with End became toxic. You'd both get high, pet one another, one time you had a clumsy version of sex and when you came, it was Rachel's name that slipped from your mouth and End was too high to care. It was like being parasitic. You two needed each other. Then one night End met some guy, some guy with really pure shit, and she left you on the corner of 5th and West, you didn't see her after that. Your instincts had told you not to go with some guy - he acted like Scooter and that was always bad news. You had a feeling End had overdosed or been raped and beaten to death, but you didn't let yourself think of that.

Days became weeks, weeks became months. You started getting high so many times a day that everything bled together and one time you got kicked out of Central Park by some cop on a horse, you'd laughed at him but he'd arrested you. You remember holding onto the metal bars of your window staring out there, sometimes imagining you could hear Broadway from here. Was she out there, singing her heart out like always? You didn't know but you didn't know if you were ready to. After about a week in jail you were released and you disappeared again. You met some nice old homeless guy, and shared a sandwich with him. His name was Marvin and he'd tell you about 'the old days' everytime you sat and ate lunch with him. When you were sober, you'd talk about Beth. He'd tell you that you should find her someday, but you always responded to that with, "What child wants to know their mother is a drug addict?" You figured it best to just let Beth imagine you as some other person. You were a street rat, a drug addict, free to die on some sidewalk.

Soon, you started to run out of money. The Squatter warehouse you slept at most of the time was becoming emptier and emptier, less people to steal from. You'd never really robbed a store before but you had a knife and you needed a fix. You'd been vomiting for three days and lost fifteen pounds. If you didn't get something soon you knew you were going to be suffering even worse than you were. You'd stood outside that convenience store, watching people come and go, blonde hair unwashed, clothing a size too big and smelling of pot and heroin residue. Your face was dirty, but it wasn't high school and you could give a shit how you looked. You needed money for heroin, and you needed heroin to keep forgetting why you had run away from Lima and ended up in New York. You were too close and it hurt. So you strode into the convenience store and the second you flipped your knife open, you saw the bastard had a gun. You were riding on your very last high and you knew if you didn't get more you were fucked, so the gun pointing in your face had very little impact. That is, until the guy jumped over his counter and started chasing you down the street. You'd almost knocked over a couple people on your way out, you'd dropped your knife somewhere on the way out, and as you were dodging traffic you heard the guy with the gun yelling at you to stop. You'd be shot if you stopped so there was no way, he couldn't trick you like that. So you kept running, you thought you were running fast enough but the next thing you heard was glass shattering and tires screaming over wet pavement; you really didn't feel anything you just knew something wasn't right, you suddenly felt cold and were looking up at the sky. You wondered how it is that you never noticed how beautiful the skyscrapers were, just as you started dropping off into inky blackness and you could've sworn you heard Rachel calling your name. You'd laughed, sickened by the dark humor of your own imagination, and the blackness devoured you.

###

The next time you woke up everything was way too bright and you saw needles in your arm, but not the good kind. You also hurt all over, like the time Scooter had beat you into unconsciouness for failing to get the money for a drug deal. You had a vague memory of End cleaning your wounds and disappearing to shoot up afterward, but Scooter was gone and End was probably dead and you were the walking dead, a ghost.

A nurse had come in, asked a bunch of questions, most of which you couldn't understand because it was like she was talking at the end of a really long tunnel at a whisper. The room was too bright, you'd told her that, and she'd dimmed the lights a little. You passed out soon after that even though you were hurting and you didn't have your heroin. Withdrawals were going to hit you like a freight train and this time you didn't have any way of getting what you needed. So here you were, prom queen turned heroin addict, laying nearly dead in a hospital bed in the same city as your savior. The girl who didn't even know you'd been in the city for almost a year, running around the back streets like a rat, looking for a way to die because you didn't have a heart anymore, you gave it to her a long time ago when she wasn't looking and then you gave her every reason to hate you.

The next time you woke up, there was a vase with flowers in it, and you wondered maybe if there had been a mix up. You struggled up just enough to grab the card and read it. It'd simply said, _I wasn't expecting us to reunite this way but I hope you're doing okay. - Kurt Hummel_ and that made your stomach twist because someone knew you were here, someone knew you were alive, when you'd rather they all just think you were dead or inaccessible. They'd know you were a junkie and a reject, the lowest of the low. Someone knew you were still alive and you wished right then you could pull out one of these damn needles and use it to puncture yourself beyond repair. At least you could feel free then. Heroin, you wanted it so bad that you forgot for a moment that there was a card beside the vase, from someone else. The pink envelope felt so soft in your hands and your heart twinged a little because this felt different, it felt as if it had just been in someone else's hands. You delicately peeled open the seal and saw a big gold star on the front of the card that said, "Thinking of you," and you wondered who besides Rachel Berry could possibly buy such a gaudy and perfect card.

You open it carefully, heart pounding because you're afraid. Afraid it's not from her, afraid it is from her. You just feel afraid, like the time she sang to you when you were pregnant and it looked like she was looking straight into your heart and soul and could see that you loved her more than anything. Afraid.

_I never expected us to meet again this way. I hope you wake up. I have so many questions, and I'm so worried about you. - Rachel (544 6209)_

You could hardly believe your eyes, and you were shaking a bit. You must have read the card at least sixty times and traced the perfect way she wrote her name, traced every letter like you were reaching inside yourself to find that glimmer of hope you'd buried a long time ago. You didn't deserve such compassion, yet here it was, written in a card from Rachel Berry, with her number attached. She wanted you to call her. You couldn't find the bravery to do so, so you just kept reading it over and over, memorizing her perfect writing. When you finally started to get tired again, you positioned the card perfectly so you could read it while laying on your side. You passed out before your withdrawal pains started again.

And then like some kind of angel, she reappeared in your life and sat with you in quiet and didn't go away even when you told her not to touch you. You wanted her touch, you hurt all over but you wanted Rachel's hand on your arm. You wanted to cry and cry and cry and tell her everything, tell her how you ended up here and why you ended up in New York and that you didn't have a heart because you'd given it to her in secret when you were 13 years old and she was giving a speech in history class about the first theatrical production.

Like some kind of whirlwind she took you in and for the first time you knew this was your only chance to survive and maybe your only chance to be happy. Rachel Berry wanted to save you but you couldn't let her think that's what you wanted.

That day that she had stood looking at you so sadly in the doorway, like a frightened child, and pleaded with you not to disappear, you had been so caught offguard that you couldn't possibly form words. How could you leave when she was looking at you like that? How could you speak? All you wanted to do was grab her and kiss her but you were never worthy and you were a heroin addict.

Then slowly things started to change. You began to accept her softness, began to crave it, found yourself coming alive again under her care, and you felt your lungs burst with your first breath in years when she sang to you during your withdrawal pains. You'd missed that voice so much that you started crying, even though she thought you were crying because you were in pain. You began to ask for her to stay, began to ask for her, began to depend on her. The withdrawal was almost bearable when you were with her. Even if she didn't love you like that.

Then that one morning, when she'd woken up and had been watching you sleep, the way your eyes met one another and for the first time you let your guard down long enough to stare deep into those perfect brown eyes. You'd seen her breath hitch a little and her beautiful face light with confusion. She'd seemed to decide against getting up and the way her arm tightened around you made you nearly cry with joy.

Yet, you were so broken, so imperfect, so far from recovery. She deserved better, and she didn't even know you loved her. So you did the next best thing. She'd been cooking you breakfast and as she'd approached you, you couldn't help the magnetic way your arms fit around her or that your bicep had pushed her shirt up so there was a patch perfect skin. You'd breathed her in before brushing your lips over those perfect hips. When she gasped, you knew she was hooked - it was the same sound you'd made when you'd done heroin. You did it again, and again, and before you could think you were kissing the back of her neck and sliding your hands up so near her breasts that you ached all over with want. Your hands had a mind of their own, turned Rachel around and kissed those lips you'd dreamed about since you were thirteen. The way she was moaning and panting into your mouth you knew you couldn't stop now and you knew she didn't want you to. Even if you had to leave, you could at least leave knowing you'd gotten what you'd always dreamed of. She'd set you on fire with every pant and moan and her fingernails raked down your back and it took everything to take it slow. You wanted to remember every sensation. Then all of a sudden you were in bed and she was straddling you and those perfect breasts were free for you to touch and she was looking at you with fire in her eyes, passion, so you fucked her and she fucked you and then you made love the rest of the time and when she whispered, "I love you" after coming and screaming your name, you knew you couldn't stay. She deserved someone who wasn't street filth. So you let her fall asleep, kissed her cheek with tears in your eyes, and ran away.

Heroin found you once again, you figured she'd never find you but she did. And you knew then that you couldn't run away from her, that she was an idiot because she loved an addict but you couldn't stop it. You'd been in love with her so long you didn't know how to keep running away from her. She took you home and cleaned you up and yelled at you and when she'd been angry you knew she was minutes away from breaking down in tears and that... that's when you knew Rachel Berry was in love with you.

###

"How long will it take?" You ask, and hope the fear isn't showing in your voice. This doctor looks so damn unfriendly and you hate this place because it's where addicts go to fix their problems. You don't want to fix it. You're terrified. Rachel wants you to, though, and you want Rachel. You need Rachel more than you need anything else.

You've been in the detox center for two days and in between painful withdrawals and long therapy sessions you keep telling yourself you have to do this, you know in your heart of hearts you want to do this. You deserve more. Rachel deserves more. You're allowed one phone call a day and you haven't made love since that first time but she tells you she loves you every time, tells you that she believes in you and that when you get out she's going to prove it to you. You want to tell her she doesn't have to prove anything, she's perfect, she's too perfect for you. Instead you just say 'okay' and tell her that you love her too. You want to tell her how much in love with her you are, for how long, but you think maybe it's better to do that when you're sober.

Right now the doctor is looking at you with those wrinkled eyes and looking at the vial of your blood which will determine whether or not you're about to recieve a death sentence. He tells you it'll be about 24 hours before they get full lab results, so you nod numbly and get out of your chair, go back to your room. You lay in bed, thinking that this is all worth it if you can just get better, if you can just prove that Quinn Fabray has some worth after all.

So you start writing a letter, the letter you're going to give to Rachel when you get home. You're going to tell her everything in that letter, so you write even through the withdrawal pains. By the time you're done it feels like you've poured your entire soul into that paper.

When you call Rachel that evening she sounds tired but happy, "I miss you," she says, and you know Rachel never says those things just to say them. "I really do. Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah," you answer, just as tired, twisting the cord around your finger. "Rach?"

"Yeah?"

You let your emotion slip into your voice as tears well up in your eyes, "I'm sorry for everything."

"Never be sorry, Quinn, never ever."

"I always will be," you tell her. You don't feel like you deserve her forgiveness. "I'm weak."

"You're the bravest person I've ever met."

"I love you more than you'll ever know," your voice is barely a whisper but you can hear Rachel sniffling, and the smile in her voice is undeniable.

"Who knew you were such a softy?"

You laugh, softly, feeling your tears fall down your face and your throat hot with emotion, "Just don't tell anyone."

"Pinkie promise."

"I get out in five days."

"Counting down the hours," She says with such sincerity it almost breaks your heart. You grip the phone harder.

"I mean it, Rach," you whisper to her. "I love you. I'm gonna do this."

"I know you are."

And the phone call ends shortly after. You know that words won't ever be sufficient enough to express how much you love her but you go back to your room and sleep with her letter under your pillow as if you can pour all your love into it while you dream.

The next day the doctor comes in your room when you're in the middle of teeth-chattering pain, and he gives you a small shot of some drug that's supposed to make the withdrawal less severe. Your eyes are hazed with pain and you look at him, even though he's blurry or your eyes are full of pained tears.

"You tested negative," he informs you with what you think is supposed to be a kindly smile.

You cry with relief and nod, unable to get out a thank you before you bury your head in pain again. He leaves you to yourself and you hope this pain passes before your therapy session.

###

Therapy group is a little bit like hell. You all sit around, talking about your mistakes, baring your soul. You hate it, but you know it's necessary.

"So what is it that made you start doing your drug of choice?" The pink poodle asks you with that obnoxious bow. You think pink sweaters should be disallowed and women that look like first grade teachers make horrible therapists.

"I lost two people I loved. One I gave away, the other one I pushed away." You respond with a slightly robotic tone. Beth. Poor Beth. You hope she never finds out who you really are now.

You can tell the poodle wants to pry but you don't let her pry any further. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, zoning out as the rest of the group answers various or similar questions. It's easy to mute them because all you can think about is Rachel.

###

On the last day, the poodle gives you some mock-up certificate for passing the detox program like you passed a math test. You still feel pain every once in a while and you know you're going to struggle with your addiction but you know that you've at least made the first step to sobriety. You stayed strong for the first time in a very long time, and as you look out the car window, you hold Rachel's letter in your lap. The cab driver looks back at you once in a while but it's a three hour ride home and you really don't want to talk to some stranger for three hours.

You think about End, the fact that she's a ghost to you now, dead. You think about Scooter, you feel bile rise in your throat and just barely manage to push the thought down before you think about that day in the hospital, staring at Rachel's card in disbelief.

You think about the way Rachel's skin feels on your mouth, the way she tastes, the way she clutches at you when you're doing it just right. You think about how when you kiss her it feels like your whole self is on fire and you think about how you always loved her but she never knew.

You unfold her letter, eyes tracing carefully over its contents one last time.

_Rachel,_

_You never would have known from the way I treated you, but I still remember the first day I really noticed you. We were thirteen, and you were wearing a red bow in your hair, a dress to match. I was sitting in the back row in our history class. You were reading a report on the first American theatrical production and even mentioning to cliffnotes. People were kind of heckling you, even the teacher was trying to hurry you along, but I don't think you saw me. I was sitting perfectly still, hands folded in my lap, listening to every word. You were fascinating. I remember thinking your hair was so pretty and all I wanted to do was touch it. That's the first time I knew that you were special._

_I always told myself I never deserved your attention but I craved it. There was always some moment of hesitation before or after I insulted you, always some moment where I found myself listening to you sing and telling myself not to cry, not to look at your lips. There were so many times when I wanted to follow you into the bathroom and help you clean up and beg for your forgiveness. I didn't deserve it though, so I never did ask for it. I'd made you cry so many times, but you have no idea how much I tortured myself over it. You know how I always made sure that I called you some despicable name? I was trying to convince myself I hated you. In reality, I thought and still think you have the most beautiful voice I've ever heard. I used to have dreams about you, simple ones, where you'd be right next to me or you'd take my hand and help me stand up. It would always end before I even got so much as a hug from you. Those dreams tortured me because I craved you so badly. I always craved you. I was terrified because I knew you'd go off to New York and become somebody. I was always meant to be nobody, at least that's what I thought._

_Yet that morning after we made love, when I lay in bed watching you sleep, steeling my heart, I knew I was always meant to be yours. I always was yours. I loved you when I was 13 and I never stopped. It was the scariest part of my existence, knowing I loved you. I figured you deserved better, you deserved way better. Watching you kiss Finn killed me Junior Year at Nationals. That was when I decided I couldn't stay in Lima after we graduated. I had to run away, because I was a ghost and I was the walking dead and I didn't have a heart because it had always been yours. You deserved a happy life._

_I was stupid, wasn't I? I took away your choice. At least until the night that taxi cab nearly killed me. You had a choice, and you made it. You came to find me. When I left, you came to find me. When I left again, you came to find me again. You've always been the most extraordinary person I've ever known and words will never express how deep my love for you is. When I'm with you, I'm awestruck, I'm strong, I'm perfect, and I'm fragile. I'm who I'm meant to be when I'm with you._

_Rachel, please don't ever let me go. We're in for a long ride because of my addiction but I'm begging you, please don't ever let me go. I'm so in love with you that I can't lose you now. Don't give up on me, because I can do this with your help. I can do this for me. I just need you beside me._

_I know we haven't made love since the first time, but the next time we do I want to make it perfect for you. When I get home, when you read this, I'm going to ask you on a date and I hope you'll say yes. I know we're going to have a bit of a rollercoaster ride, but Rach, I can't breathe without you. You've been my everything for so many years and now that I can tell you that without being afraid, I'm going to tell you it over and over. You were my everything, even when I treated you like you were nothing. I'd take all that back if I could._

_I miss you, have missed you for so long. I met this girl and travelled with her, End, before I came to New York. She looked like you but she smelled like pot and heroin and I hated that she reminded me of you. I missed you every day. I have been missing you since I entered the detox place. I'm writing this as the lights are off and I'm just pouring all of me into this because I don't deserve you but I can't live without you._

_I'm empty without you, I've been empty for so many years, I've been the walking dead. You make me feel alive, Rach. You gave me the one thing I lost the moment I gave Beth up - hope. A reason to live. I'm going to ask you on a date and I hope you say yes. _

_Forever yours,  
>Q<em>

###

The cabby pulls up in front of her apartment and you take the deepest breath you think you've ever taken. You pay him, make your way nervously up the steps as if it's the first time you've been there. You smooth out your dress, a nice yellow dress that Rachel sent you while you were in detox. Your hair is pinned back a bit and you hope you look nice. The letter is clutched in your hands and you swear you're going to fall apart. You've missed her so much.

You make your way quietly up the stairs, drawing out your own anticipation, and knock on the door three solid times, and close your eyes. It's sobriety or nothing, that much you know, but you can only pray Rachel sticks with you every step of the way.

You hear her excited squeak, her scuffling across the floor, muffled voice as she scrambles to unlock the door. You smile. You _really _smile. The kind of smile that splits your face in half and makes your heart feel like it might explode. You've never been so glad to be alive as she opens that door and throws herself in your arms. You smell coconut shampoo surround you and you hold on to her like it's been a year and not a week. You're shaking but you don't care.

"I love you," you whisper desperately.

She clutches you tighter, "I love you so much," Rachel sounds like she might be crying as she sifts her fingers through your hair, "Oh, god I love you, I love you."

Your face splits with another smile as you start to cry into her curtain of hair, clutching to her like she's your life-raft. Your heart swells as she continues to whisper 'I love you's' into your ear. You forget about the letter for a moment, pull away just enough to crush your lips to hers, and kiss her like you wanted to when you were thirteen.


	6. Verse 6

**Title**: Savior

**Pairing**: Quinn/Rachel

**A/N**: Again, lyrics from Erasure's "Breathe." The last chapter would never have been as perfect as it was without utilizing second-person from Quinn's point of view. I had purposefully been masking her because I wanted you all to see and experience Quinn from Rachel's point of view. I wanted you all to feel what Rachel was going through (to as much of an extent as you could have). I'm glad you enjoyed it! The last chapter I'm considering doing in Quinn's POV like the last one is, depending on the resolution. We shall see! Thank you, again, for the amazing response and support. Sorry, this chapter seems to have turned out just 200 words short of my normal 6k word quota. I just felt the way it ended was on a perfect note and I didn't want to mar it. I hope you enjoy!

**WARNING: This chapter is VERY smutty. M for Mature. **

_Kyry: That's always the struggle, isn't it? Trying to let the reader into Quinn's head realistically without losing the thing that makes Quinn who she is - her carefully guarded mask. I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter and the fic as a whole. ^_^ Thank you for the kind review!  
>Suannlicious: Haha, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to throw you off of a bridge! I've only lapsed once for three days because I got busy with summer fun times with my family - but otherwise I've been mostly updating every day. ^_^ I keep odd hours because I'm an insomniac so that both aids and hinders my writing. I'll try not to break you! 3 Thank you!<br>curious: Thank you so much for the sweet compliments! I loved writing the letter, I wanted Quinn separately established their feelings for each other even if they haven't had a mutual discussion about it.  
>14thChronicle: Nice username, btw! Your review was absolutely kind and I thank you so much! It makes me feel better that people think my writing is worthwhile. I try my best. ^_^ I'll keep updating every day when possible - there are only 3 chapters left, this one included, then I start work on a sequel to On a Clear Night (a bit more fluffy than this fic).<br>Alibooboo: Haha, I actually agree with you! Although of course having a bias opinion, I love the whole fic but getting to peer into Quinn's head and explore her backstory is thrilling and intense for me. Keeping Quinn drug free won't be easy, it never is when you have an addiction, but if Rachel can stand by her side it may make it easier. ^_^  
>pleasant-hell: Writing any fic in AU is a challenge to maintain the characters as they are known by Glee fans and such, that's why when I do write AU fics, it's a very slight twist, that way it makes it easier for me to keep the characters I love true to who I percieve them to be. I'm so glad you love it! Thank you for taking time to review!<br>olacindy: I'm glad you found it, and that you're enjoying it! Thank you for taking time to write a review for me! ^_^  
>Vaneeeyuh: Ahhhhhhhhhh I know, I'm so sorry! My older sister ended up crashing at my place for three days - which turned into three days of horror movies and drinking and ended with us buying 200 water baloons and water guns and ambushing our mother the day before she left for her second honeymoon in South Dakota. Bwuahahaha. So although I am honestly, sincerely sorry that I made you wait, I assure you it was for good reasons and I don't foresee taking any three day breaks again before this fic is over. 3 Thank you for being patient and lovely and kind! I think I mentioned in an above response that the real struggle was letting people into Quinn's head without bringing her out of character or from behind her usual guard. I wanted it to be realistic and I'm so glad you feel it was. 3 I'm glad you think I have a flare! You're lovely as always! ;)<em>

###

**Verse 6**

_Breathe, and I breathe;  
>It's bitter without you, I can't live without you,<br>And I'm in love with you_

###

The moment Rachel had heard the knocks on the solid wood of the door, her heart had leapt directly out of her chest. She'd been in the middle of cleaning up the livingroom in a fit of nervousness and all that was forgotten as she called out for Quinn to wait just a second. Rachel's lithe figure had leapt over the back of the couch, nearly tripped on the coffee table. The diva flung the door open and all senses left her as she threw herself into Quinn's familiar arms. It took all of Rachel's strength not to burst into tears. After a week of 10-minute phone calls and worrying about whether or not Quinn was making any progress, Rachel was flooded with such intense relief that all she could say was, "I love you" on repeat. She vaguely heard Quinn saying the same thing to her, buried her fingers in Quinn's hair and thanked goodness for her small stature as her legs were currently wrapped around Quinn's waist and Quinn was holding her up with ease. Anyone who'd seen the exchange would have thought they'd been lovers their entire lives, and perhaps they had been.

All thought ceased the moment Quinn crushed her lips to Rachel's. It was like someone had opened up the floodgates and Rachel didn't need any confirmation; her heart was bursting with love and it was being mutually returned by one Quinn Fabray. As her lips sought out Quinn's hungirly, tears slipped into their kiss as they both desperately sought to memorize one another's mouths, tongues, taste. Rachel felt fire light inside her unlike anything else - not just a fire built from the kindling of lust but from long repressed love and passion. It all flashed through her mind, all at once, as Quinn panted into her mouth and somehow lay them down on the couch and climbed on top of Rachel. Hungry kisses followed hungrier ones as Quinn's torso rolled against Rachel's and a thigh slipped between Rachel's legs.

Rachel could remember being thirteen, watching Quinn walk out of their history class without so much as a snicker at her overdone essay. Years flashed forward, Rachel saw Quinn's mysterious occasional appearances at Rachel's side when Finn was being particularly ignorant, Quinn's too-long gazes as Rachel performed, Quinn's face contorting in pain as Finn kissed Rachel at Nationals Junior year. Quinn hesitating near Rachel's fathers with some card in hand at Graduation, eyes locked on Rachel, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and suddenly she was swept away by Brittany and Santana and they never got a chance to say goodbye. It all played in her mind like a movie, a perfect movie, full of the proper ups and downs and climaxes and it was coming to its peak, Rachel could feel it.

Her fingers tangled in blonde hair as one thigh wrapped around Quinn's hips, pulling them together in just the right way, a strangled moan making its way into Rachel's mouth from Quinn's throat. Rachel grinned briefly into the kiss and her lips broke away long enough to pepper hot kisses all along Quinn's neck, her collarbone, hungry fingers seeking skin and lips smothering Quinn's skin hotly. She could feel Quinn's hips occasionally grinding down against hers, forcing a slow moan from Rachel's mouth, head falling backward for only a moment before Rachel resumed sucking at a particularly delicious bit of Quinn's skin.

She could feel Quinn's fingers sliding up her side, graceful touches setting Rachel's skin even more aflame than before, Rachel's moans incoherent as Quinn began palming a breast underneath the fabric and Rachel's torso arched upward in need. Swifter than Rachel could think, her hand was seeking Quinn's and forcing it downward over her hips and straight past the barrier of shorts and panties, right to the source of her heat. She needed Quinn inside her, desperately.

Quinn's eyes dilated, and her delicious voice gasped, Rachel assumed at discovering how wet Rachel was for Quinn.

Rachel bit her bottom lip in anticipation, struggling to keep her eyes open as Quinn's fingers shyly grazed her clit, causing Rachel to arch upward, before she captured Quinn's lips in a seething kiss, all but growling, "Now." She could feel Quinn's head cant forward against her own in pure unadulterated lust.

All feeling was lost the second Quinn shoved two fingers deep inside of Rachel, seeking out every bit of her, rhythmically circling inside of her, all patterns and knuckles and panting as Rachel bucked under Quinn's ministrations. Another long leg wrapped around Quinn's waist, pulling Quinn's fingers deeper inside her. Rachel could feel Quinn panting against her neck as her fingers raked down the blondes back, gasping and moaning in ways that would have made her blush if she had cared at all what this looked like.

All she knew was that the feeling of Quinn Fabray fucking her was too much to resist. It turned her into a whole different person. Her lips were parted in pants against Quinn's ear as Quinn's hips rocked into her own, pressing, consistently pushing her fingers in and out, coupled with delicious circling and massaging of inner-muscles Rachel didn't even know she had. "Oh, god," Rachel panted right against Quinn's ear, "god...Quinn," her voice was a mixture of a moan and a cry as she strove to have more of Quinn inside her.

Rachel didn't think it could get any better, but it did the moment Quinn boldly thrust a third finger inside and began thumbing Rachel's clit; her fingernails were literally digging into Quinn's shoulders and she was slamming her hips into each thrust that every one gained a strangled moan. It wasn't until Quinn's teeth found a nipple, suckled, then trailed a tongue up toward her ear that it got better. Oh, did it get better. Quinn bit Rachel's earlobe before purring huskily, "Come for me, Rachel."

Rachel simultaneously arched upward, her gaze going blank as she cried out, nails clutching into Quinn's shoulders, clawing at her lover as Quinn curled her fingers inside of her and coaxed out every last bit of Rachel's orgasm. Never before had Rachel loved the sound of her name so than when it was coming from Quinn's lips in such a seductive way.

Tears slipped from her eyes as her body slowly rocked against Quinn's fingers, coming down from possibly the most passionate exchange she'd ever had. She felt a hunger in her gut, like she wanted more, eyes now impossibly dark as they searched Quinn's. "I love you," Rachel whispered tearfully into a kiss, hips never stopping their motion as she did so. "I want more," Rachel begged huskily, fingers skirting over Quinn's ass and pulling her hips down into Rachel's.

Quinn chuckled with the same tone and groaned softly, "Soon," she promised delicately as her fingers swirled and ducked inside Rachel lastly before slipping out.

Rachel bit her bottom lip in anticipation and groaned as she dipped her head backward, feeling languid kisses over the damp skin of her neck, feeling how intensely she was trembling. She couldn't even speak, could only lazily smile and pull Quinn down into another kiss - but this time softer, and more loving.

It took them a good hour or so of calming down before Rachel noticed the letter resting on the floor near the couch. Quinn's arms were wrapped lovingly around her, drawing shapes on her hips, and the brunette leaned down to pick up the envelope, "What's this?"

Quinn seemed to be pulled from some state of thought, smiling lazily as she pressed a kiss to Rachel's shoulder, "For you," her words were still a little slurred. Their little romp had left them both quite drunk with love and it was hard to form normal words just yet.

Rachel turned her gaze over her shoulder, meeting glazed green eyes and searching them, "Can I read it?"

"I thought you were the smart one, Berry," Quinn smiled softly then nodded, "Yes, of course." No hint of nervousness passed over Quinn's features, and Rachel felt put at ease as she shuffled backward into Quinn's arms a little more and settled against her, happily snuggled on the couch as she peeled open the envelope and unfolded the letter.

Rachel Berry was a fast reader, but you never would have guessed such - mostly because she read Quinn's letter three different times. By the third time, her eyes were full of tears and she was sniffling as Quinn pressed kisses to the back of her neck.

"Why did you never tell me?" Rachel's first thought fell from her lips, softly and without judgement, and she glanced behind her again, feeling Quinn's hand tighten around her waist.

Quinn visibly swallowed and seemed to hesitate before answering, "Afraid."

Rachel knew that was the most honest and sincere answer she would have ever gotten from Quinn, all she'd ever hoped for. This girl, this woman, had loved her since she was thirteen and all of a sudden everything seemed to make sense. Rachel turned around in Quinn's arms and buried herself against her, wordlessly accepting Quinn's love without even a breath of hesitation.

"Go on a date with me?" Quinn's words were a breath against Rachel's ear.

Rachel smiled brightly, though her smile was hidden against Quinn's collarbone, "Yes, please." She hoped Quinn couldn't hear her crying.

###

_Earlier that week..._

The road to sobriety was possibly the hardest thing, at least that's what Rachel imagined. All the while Quinn had been in detox for that week, Rachel had been sick with worry that Quinn was in there alone. She wanted to be by her side when she was there. Yet she couldn't be. She'd spent every moment next to the phone waiting to hear Quinn's voice, and there were some days Quinn sounded so tired and so close to giving up that Rachel became frightened. Yet she continued to assert her belief in Quinn and eventually that's what won out.

That entire week Kurt had been coming over with lunches for Rachel, because Rachel hadn't been eating nearly enough and had been pacing her apartment nonstop every moment. It spurred a discussion that caused the snowball reaction that would inevitably lead Rachel to the conclusion that she was in love with Quinn.

"Again, I find you worried beyond repair," Kurt commented wryly and he set the bag of Chinese takeout on the counter. "You're going to wear a hole in the floor and marble flooring is not cheap. You may be a Broadway star but it's just silly to spend that much on flooring."

Rachel shot him a dark glare, "I can't help it."

"I know, if someone I loved was in rehab I'd be worried, too."

That stopped Rachel right in her tracks, looking at Kurt as if he'd called her a unicorn, "What?"

"Oh come on," he rolled his eyes emphatically. "I'm your best friend. Ever since Quinn was laying spread eagle on that cement, she's all you've thought about. Hell, even before that. Remember your first year on Broadway, you sent her a ticket to your show and cried after the show when she didn't show up?"

Rachel merely shook her head in disbelief, "That doesn't mean that I -"

"Oh please, lovesick puppies shouldn't go around pretending to be normal ones," Kurt sighed and began dishing out the food. "You think about her 24/7, wait by that damn phone just for a ten minute call, not to mention you already had sex with her."

"That was just -"

"Sex? Sorry, honey, Rachel Berry isn't just capable of 'sex.' You have attachment written all over you in like... ultrabright neon marker. On your face."

Rachel looked and felt a mixture of confused and offended, "I don't -"

"You know I'm right. And the second she gets home, you'll be like bunnies and you'll live happily ever after, at least as long as she stays sober."

"What if she -"

Rachel realized she hadn't gotten a full sentence in yet as Kurt broke in once more, sitting down on the couch and holding out a plate of Kung Pao Chicken for Rachel, looking at her expectantly, "Please. She came from Lima to New York to avoid you? She spent our entire lives obsessing over making your life hell because she wanted Finn? You and I both know she hated Finn more than she hated you. Not to mention, I'm not sure how lesbians work, but I'm pretty sure heterosexual girls don't have sex randomly over the breakfast table."

Rachel was speechless. She took the plate in hand and sat on the couch beside Kurt, feeling a wash of confusion. "Oh my god."

"Here it comes."

"I'm in love with Quinn Fabray."

"Told you. I am never wrong," and with a haughty lift of his chin, he stabbed at his chicken and took a bite of Kung Pao.

###

"D-do...I look okay?" Rachel breathed carefully at her reflection, smoothing over the designer gown over her hips, appraising herself carefully. She wanted tonight to be perfect. She knew this was when all the cards would finally be put on the table. Although Quinn had clearly confessed her love, Rachel had only so far shown it and not fully confessed the fact she was in love with Quinn and wanted to be with her. It had been only a day or two since Quinn had gotten out of Detox and Kurt had quarantined her for the night at his apartment so they could both get ready separately for the "Big Date" as he had coined it.

Kurt clapped his hands together, breathing dramatically, "Oh, it's perfect on you," he twirled her around by the shoulders and fixed her hair a little, placing strands here or there. "Quinn is going to have a hard time keeping her hands off you," he smiled knowingly.

Rachel blushed and closed her eyes briefly, taking a steeling breath, "Kurt, I'm going to tell her tonight."

"I mean, she's not going to be surprised but good for you." Kurt was continuing to shift little bits of the dress to their appropriate place and wheeled around to search for the perfect pair of shoes.

She never thought this was going to happen, never thought it'd be possible, but here she was getting ready for a date with the love of her life, and that person just happened to be someone she'd never expected. Yet Quinn was somehow perfect for Rachel, and Rachel somehow perfect for Quinn. It was as if their names were meant to fit together in a perfect box, wrapped with the perfect bow.

"Honey, please don't cry, you'll smear your makeup," Kurt warned gently and dabbed at Rachel's eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't realize."

Kurt smiled gently, "I'm so happy for you. I mean I never would have expected it but now that it's happening it's just like... perfect."

Rachel nodded tearfully in agreement and gently hugged Kurt in her arms, tightly, closing her eyes, "Thank you."

###

Rachel had never seen Quinn look so absolutely stunning. The blonde was wearing a perfect black dress that rose just above the knee and fit her form with absolutely no flaw. As Rachel stepped forward, Quinn holding the limo door open, Rachel felt speechless. Quinn looked speechless as well.

They had agreed to try to keep to normal first-date etiquette, but it was so hard not to take Quinn's face in her hands and kiss her breathless right there. And the way Quinn's eyes were glittering, Rachel knew the feeling was mutual. She blushed and pushed a strand of her brunette hair behind her ear, ducking her head has she got in the limo and scooted over, eyes cast to Quinn as her date followed suit. Rachel's smile grew exponentially when she felt the warmth of Quinn's thigh against her own through her dress, and her fingers hesitated before cupping Quinn's knee, wordlessly searching her eyes as the limo made its way into traffic and to the restaraunt. They said everything without any words at all; everything was held in that gaze, in the way they both seemed magnetically drawn to each other's orbit. Rachel felt Quinn's fingers slip over her wrist, turn her palm over, and lace their fingers together.

Quinn was the first to speak, her voice full of adoration and warmth and that gentle gravelly tone, "You look so beautiful, Rachel," she murmured the words as if in awe.

Rachel was surprised at the fact Quinn's honesty made her blush, "So do you," Rachel Berry was sort of speechless. Her heart was hammering. She wanted so badly to kiss Quinn, but knew there'd be time for that later. She really did want to follow proper first-date etiquette. Her eyes dipped to Quinn's lips before she forced them upward. Tonight would be perfect.

###

Kurt was on the phone with two familiar people, two familiar people who happened to be bickering.

"Listen, Britt, it's not like it's that easy just to fly to New York," Santana's voice bit over the line. "I love you and all but how are we going to afford -"

"Kurt said he'd pay. It's for Q. He said it might make it easier for her to quit doing drugs," Brittany insisted softly to her lover.

"Ladies, ladies, the tickets are paid for. The date is set. Normally I don't interfere -"

"Oh come on, you're the Queen of interference," Santana's eye-roll was nearly visible through the phone-line.

"Okay, so I tend to make some things my business. I sincerely believe that a visit from her old friends coupled with the company of her girlfriend will give her a sturdy foundation for sobriety."

"She all but blew us off when we all graduated," Santana sounded just a little unhappy.

"She was having problems, S," Britt purred over the line. "We're going."

There was a pause on the line, and then a dramatic sigh, "Fine. You're paying for everything, Hummel."

###

"I haven't really gotten to discuss your letter at length," Rachel began, shyly, as Quinn's fingers toyed with her own across the table. It was hard to speak when Quinn was looking at her with that look of pure adoration, completely unhidden. Rachel swallowed, "It took me a while to realize it, but...I'm in love with you. I think part of me has always at least been infatuated with you, even when you were terrible," she felt Quinn's fingers begin to loose from her own but she insistently pulled them back into her own, "and I need you to know that I forgive you. None of that matters now. I am beyond a doubt in love with you, Quinn."

Quinn nodded, hazel eyes clouded, and she looked as if she was just about ready to crush Rachel in her arms but somehow seemed to maintain her composure.

"I was surprised to find out that you loved me when you were thirteen and from then on, but somehow it all made sense and I don't know if I'd change anything. I want you to know that I'm not going to leave your side, no matter what, because I know it's going to be hard as hell to get sober," Rachel met Quinn's eyes meaningfully and kissed her fingers, "but I believe in you."

"Thank you," Quinn's voice was quiet, her eyes full of tears. She looked happy, hopeful, something Rachel hadn't yet seen in full force until just now. Quinn seemed to be unable to say anything else, only quietly held Rachel's hand as they shared dinner together and a bottle of wine.

As far as first dates went, this by far was Rachel Berry's favorite. Mostly because she knew it was leading to a very bright future, despite the obvious difficulties ahead of them.

###

It was in the limo that the bottle of wine began to make Rachel forget the whole 'first-date etiquette' thing. She was busily running her tongue along Quinn's collarbone, straddling the panting blonde beneath her. They'd instructed the limo driver to take the long way home and roll the sound-proof window up - not that either of those factors would have stopped them. Rachel could smell Quinn all around her, and felt Quinn's fingers dragging down her back and cupping her ass. How is it that Quinn was so irresistable? Rachel slowly captured Quinn's lips with her own, briefly taking Quinn's bottom lip between her teeth - eliciting a strangled moan from Quinn and the vague feeling of Quinn pressing her hips upward to make up for space between them.

Devilishly, Rachel grinned and pinned Quinn's hands on either side of her, lacing her words with kisses, "Don't," another kiss, "move," and another, "a muscle."

Quinn whimpered complacently, eyes dangerously dark as they looked up at Rachel.

Rachel wanted Quinn, she always wanted Quinn. She felt like this insatiable person around her, something Rachel had never been, although in high school she had insisted that "girls want sex too" she just had no idea how much she personally wanted sex. Sex with Quinn. Thanking God they were adults and in a fledgling relationship, Rachel dragged a seductive finger over Quinn's neck before her feminine fingers gripped her throat just enough to make Quinn moan and gasp all at once. The blonde moved one hand to grip Rachel's thighs but Rachel used her free hand to slap it away, grinning wolfishly as she leaned in for a langorious kiss. It seemed too much for Quinn, because the tighter Rachel held, the more Quinn's hips tried to make up for lack of contact.

Rachel knowingly sat back, free hand sliding up a thigh, devilishly dark eyes trailing Quinn's beautifully pale legs, before slipping her hand wholly under Quinn's dress. It didn't take much to find exactly where Quinn wanted her, and before Quinn could gasp out Rachel's name, the blonde's underwear was cast at her feet and Rachel, without warning, thrust three fingers inside Quinn and curled them just right.

Quinn was moaning, panting, fists balled at her sides and head fallen back against the seat, "God, Rachel, just fuck me," fell from her mouth.

Those words caused even Rachel to gasp as she fully pressed inside Quinn, all the way to the last knuckle, swirling deliciously inside her and thumb stroking the side of Quinn's clit in a way that seemed to drive Quinn crazy. Rachel was rocking against her simultaneously, just as turned on as Quinn was, panting in rhythm with Quinn. The sight of Quinn begging and panting right underneath her was almost too much for Rachel to handle. She could feel her insides quivering with desire and she sought out Quinn's lips, her torso rocking forward with each thrust, "Tell me what you want," she breathed hotly into the kiss.

"Harder," Quinn all but whimpered, moaned, begged, as her hands forgot they were supposed to be still and flew to Rachel's hair, deepening the kiss as her hips thrust even harder against Rachel's hand.

Rachel knew Quinn could feel that familiar coiling in her stomach by the way she was crying out and panting, a light sheen of sweat on her brow, the kiss more insistent, hungry. "Where?" Rachel egged Quinn on, slowed her rhythm, and was surprised and incredibly turned on when Quinn grabbed Rachel's wrist and shoved the diva's fingers as deep as they could go.

Quinn's eyes shot open, hips arching and rolling, looking ferocious and hungry, enough to make Rachel quiver, "Shut up and fuck me, Berry," Quinn growled before pulling Rachel into another all consuming kiss.

Rachel had to hold back her own orgasm as Quinn's words shot through her like an earthquake. It was all the encouragement she needed as her fingertips rhythmically thrust against just the right spot and she sent the love of her life tumbling over an impossible edge, claw marks down her back making it all the more satisfying as Quinn broke the kiss and moaned out Rachel's name with a delicious finality.

Rachel wasn't ready to stop, though. She let Quinn ride out the final sensations before she slid off Quinn's lap, delivered the widest grin she could manage at a very, very shocked and hazy Quinn before her fingers pushed the edge of Quinn's dress up her thighs, leaving the beautiful blonde bare for Rachel to see.

Rachel had to catch her breath, and as she looked up at Quinn, she noticed the way Quinn looked as if she was just going to fall apart. She was going to make sure that Quinn never, ever forgot their first real date.

"Oh...oh..." Quinn's voice quivered, "Oh god, oh god, oh god," she repeated as the flat of Rachel's tongue teased her before the brunette tasted Quinn, found that delicious nub, and began sucking with fervor, "Ohgodohgodohgod, where did you learn how to - " Quinn was panting faster, hands flying to Rachel's hair and thighs locking around the brunette between her legs.

Rachel inwardly smirked at the fact Quinn most definitely would not forget tonight. She moaned against Quinn's perfect wetness, slipping three fingers in and sucking Quinn's clit meaningfully.

She wanted to own Quinn, wanted to mark Quinn as hers, and the way Quinn was crying out Rachel's name, she knew she had accomplished that goal.

###

They had made it home, not without a few more heated sessions of lovemaking, and as Rachel was splayed across Quinn's naked torso, she traced circles over Quinn's taut stomach, "I've never felt like this with anyone," she whispered quietly as if it were the most secret thing in the world. "I never thought I would."

"I didn't think it was possible, for me. I mean...when I fell in love with you I just figured it was an impossibility and..." Quinn's voice broke off, and as Rachel looked up and met those perfect green eyes, she saw tears.

"Don't cry," Rachel pleaded softly, cupping Quinn's face with her hand and pressing kisses to her cheeks.

"I'm just so grateful."

Rachel smiled lovingly, kissed a bare breast before resting her head over the sound of Quinn's heartbeat.

"I'm afraid, too. I don't want to mess it up, I don't want to relapse," Quinn's voice settled into a slightly unsure tone and her fingers were stroking Rachel's hair.

"It won't be easy," Rachel wasn't unrealistic about it or overly optimistic. "There are going to be times when you almost do but Quinn, I'm going to be there every time and I'm going to drag you away from that tempation even if it means I have to club you over the head to do it." Rachel smiled idly against Quinn's slightly damp skin, taking in the smell of Quinn all around her. Her fingers lazily trailed Quinn's ribs as her eyes slipped shut.

"Promise?"

"Pinkie promise." Rachel stated, a little more sleepily than she had intended.

"Rach?"

"Mm?"

"I love you."

###

Kurt was no stranger to Rachel's apartment, that much was clear as he burst into her bedroom that morning and squealed in shock and embarassment as he saw a half-naked Quinn draped in a half-naked Rachel. The orange juice in his hands nearly floundered to the floor but he managed to catch it.

"I... uh... made breakfast?" He offered lamely from behind his fingers, trying not to look.

Rachel laughed sleepily, rolled her eyes, "We'll be out in a second, Kurt."

"Learn how to knock, Gaga," Quinn's voice answered although her eyes weren't open yet. Rachel was amused to see that Quinn still wasn't a morning person after all these years.

"Noted," and Kurt pranced into the kitchen, and Rachel could hear him humming in the kitchen as he dished out their breakfasts.

Quinn groaned, sighed, and stretched beneath Rachel, then blinked in Rachel's direction.

Rachel giggled, "You look confused?"

"Did last night really happen? 'Cause I mean... wow," Quinn stammered sleepily, smiled languidly.

The brunette gently leaned upward, capturing Quinn's lips with her own, giving her a lingering morning kiss as her fingers danced over Quinn's perfect torso, "That answer your question?"

Quinn nodded gratefully, sighing softly. After a few moments they reluctantly disengaged and slipped on sweatpants and hoodies and made their way into the kitchen, taking seats on the diner stools as Kurt undid his apron.

"So I suppose I don't have to ask if the date went well?"

"Unless you're blind," Quinn smirked a little bit, but without any malice.

"It was perfect," Rachel stated in a tone that was slightly dreamy and slightly sleepy. She eyed her best friend as he pushed their breakfast plates toward them. "So what did you do last night?"

"I made a phone call to some old friends," he stated cryptically.

Both Quinn and Rachel shared a suspicious look.

"In an effort to show you that you have a support system in place," his tone became more gentle and less matter-of-fact, "I have invited Santana and Brittany out here this coming weekend. It's our closing weekend for Rent and you three all have tickets, as of course Rachel and I will be performing."

Rachel didn't know how to feel as she heard this news, and as she glanced over at Quinn, she could tell Quinn was on the same level, if not slightly more scared.

"I don't know if I'm ready - I mean - " Quinn hesitated, but Rachel slipped her hand over Quinn's and the blonde soften. "What if they..."

"You're Quinn Fabray, HBIC, Rachel Berry's sugarplum, and Santana and Brittany are as lesbonic as ever and although they're nervous about seeing you, they want to be here to reunite and support you in your effort to make your life the best it can be," Kurt rattled off and pointed to Quinn's plate, "Now stop questioning your fairy gayfather and eat."

Rachel watched Quinn with a delicate gaze, shared a loving look, before she saw Quinn smile and begin to eat her breakfast. Quinn could do this, Rachel had faith in her. Yet, Quinn didn't let go of her hand all through breakfast, and her grip tightened every time Santana or Brittany were mentioned in conversation.

It was indeed going to be a rough road, this much she knew, but Rachel knew that Quinn needed her friends, more than just needing Rachel. Not to mention she was a little excited that Quinn would be seeing their closing performance of Rent. Quinn had yet to see her perform on the Broadway stage and that would mean everything to Rachel. Her dark brown eyes barely if ever left Quinn's face.

After breakfast was finished, she gently leaned over, wrapping her arms around Quinn's waist and squeezing herself close. As Quinn's arm looped around Rachel's shoulders and returned the squeeze, Rachel closed her eyes.

"Quinn?"

"Mm?"

"I love you."

They both ignored the fake gagging noises from the other side of the kitchen counter.


	7. Verse 7

Title: Savior

Pairing: Quinn/Rachel

A/N: Lyrics from Erasure's "Breathe." ^_^ Ah, second to last chapter, where did the time go? We're almost to the end, folks!

_Alibooboo: LOL yeah, Kurt is fun to play with in that sense - he lightens up moments that would otherwise be too "fluffy" for this particular fic. The sexy times were fun to write, ohlawd. LOL. In terms of Beth being a part of the storyline, I haven't decided yet. Since it's so late in the fic I wonder if that would only spur on a sequel and I don't know if I want to draw this story out beyond what it has become now. It feels perfect to me, but I may explore the idea of Quinn coming to acceptance with herself eventually contacting Beth in the years to come.  
>Anonymousnoname: Good, right? Hahah.  
>w1cked: Thank you very much! I am too, I always like bringing them around for the hell of it. And I think they could really help Quinn remember who she used to be before she was a heroin addict.<br>andheartsyellow: I'm so glad you like it! Thank you for the kind compliment. :)  
>xtreme: I'm glad it was ... interesting? Hahah. I hope that's a good thing.<br>Vaneeeyuh: Agh your reviews are my favorite, they always make me grin. Dates SHOULD always end in smut! It was even fun for me! Haha. I am indeed that author. ^_^ I didn't get a lot of reviews, true, but that's okay, 'cause when I write usually it's for my own imagination to romp around, bwuaha. I liked it 'cause it was fluffy but I'm much better at writing angst._

###

**Verse 7**

_Breathe, I believe,  
>Empty without you; I can't live without you,<br>And I'm in love with you_

###

Rachel watched Quinn from the comfort of the livingroom as the blonde busied herself in their kitchen. It was almost 2am and Quinn couldn't sleep, even though they'd spent a large portion of the night making love and wearing one another out. The diva sipped at some hot tea, eyes trailing over Quinn's lithe figure. The blonde was wearing one of Rachel's old t-shirts and boyshorts, hair mussed from their passionate evening together, and Rachel had to consciously stop herself from drawing her tongue over her bottom lip in mimicry of what she wanted to do to Quinn in that moment.

Fingers clasping the cup, she merely tiredly rested her head on the back of the couch. Quinn was having withdrawal pains and urges - it was the only time Quinn got up and began to clean with almost a manic desire. The blonde had taken to cleaning to distract herself from the anxiety that came with being denied something her body still wanted. Even after detox, her brain still craved the peculiar experience of heroin. She had explained it to Rachel once - apparently it felt something like a mixture of being in the afterglow of an orgasm and in the middle of a perfect dream. When Quinn described it that way, Rachel knew that Quinn wasn't quite over her addiction. The counselor Quinn had been speaking to out of detox had informed Rachel that Quinn's struggle with addiction would be a lifetime battle.

Rachel was in it for the long haul. A lot of time had passed before Quinn finally seemed satisfied with how clean the kitchen was. Her silhouette fell across the floor as she gently dropped down onto the couch cushion beside Rachel and dipped her head into Rachel's shoulder. Quinn's hands felt clammy to Rachel as they gently grasped Rachel's.

"Does it hurt much?" Rachel inquired ever so quietly, as if afraid any loud noise would shatter Quinn's momentary peace of mind.

Quinn nodded against Rachel's collarbone, "It does. I think it's more mental than physical though."

Rachel loosed her fingers from Quinn's and sifted her digits through Quinn's locks, hoping in some way to calm Quinn's anxiety. There were many things they needed to talk about - the plans for the weekend, the final show, Santana and Brittany coming, Kurt's extensive itenerary for the five of them, but Rachel instinctively held all those things aside. She knew that bringing up any one of them might cause Quinn's anxiety to spike.

"Sing to me?" Quinn breathed quietly, much like she had when she was first staying with Rachel and suffering from withdrawals.

Rachel's lips cracked with the lightest of smiles, "Hmm," she thoughtfully brushed her nose against Quinn's temple as she pondered what to sing; her voice found a tune and she closed her dark eyes, singing a quiet lullaby.

"Always and forever we'll be free," Rachel's voice delicately grazed Quinn's ear as she pulled her lover closer in her arms, feeling Quinn shivering as she commonly did when withdrawal was nearly over, "always and forever, be with me, we'll have love aplenty, we'll have joys outnumbered," Rachel knew it had been one of Quinn's favorite songs, something that Quinn had never really shared with anyone, but it had been a song she'd overheard Quinn singing back in high school when she thought no one was listening.

"We'll share perfect moments," Quinn's voice was a little shaky, but beautiful as always, and she sounded like maybe she was smiling. Rachel didn't want to move and disrupt Quinn's singing, so she mirrored the potential smile with one of her own, "you and me, always and forever, you will see, just be with me," Quinn seemed to be relaxing a little in Rachel's arms.

Rachel gently moved her hands over Quinn's arms, rubbing out the tension from her muscles the best she could, feeling the shivering stop slowly as she did so, carrying on quietly, adoration painting her features, "We'll have love aplenty, we'll have joys outnumbered, we'll share perfect moments -"

"You and me," Quinn finished with a quiet sigh. Her withdrawals seemed to have gone away, and as she turned her gaze up at Rachel, she had little pools of tears in her eyes.

Rachel's heart fell, face contorting with concern. Her fingers darted up and smoothed away the wrinkles on Quinn's forehead and caught tears as they fell, "What's wrong?"

Quinn shook her head, laughed tearfully, "Nothing at all. It's so weird," she murmured almost in disbelief. "Sometimes I think ..." she seemed hesitant to speak. Even over the time Rachel had been sheltering her, caring about her, and even though they'd established an intimate relationship, Quinn was still (and might always be) a very guarded person, "Sometimes I think I'm dreaming. I'm so used to everything being ... bad that it's hard to believe this is real, or that it's going to last. It scares me."

"Don't be scared," Rachel's words insisted, even as she continued stroking the skin of Quinn's cheeks, pressing small kisses where each teardrop dried. "Please don't be scared. I can't guarantee that things will always be perfect but I am never, ever leaving you. This isn't a dream. I can't live without you," Rachel's voice broke and she closed her eyes, taking a shaky sigh, "I can't explain it. When you were gone it was like there was someone squeezing my heart in their palm, and I couldn't breathe, Quinn. You're all I thought about.

I know I'm the more vocal one of the two of us, admittedly my heart is always on my sleeve, but it was a strange feeling. I couldn't breathe without you, I felt numb. I craved even the sight of you and I felt so incredibly alone that it crushed me." Rachel hesitated before continuing on, "My first year on Broadway I sent you tickets to the show, and you never came, and I didn't understand why then but it broke my heart. I'd cried to Kurt about it. I didn't know why it mattered so much."

Quinn looked a little in disbelief, silent for so long that Rachel was almost afraid she'd said something wrong. As hazel eyes searched her face for some unfathomable something, Rachel was half-ready to retract her words before she felt Quinn surge forward and capture her lips in a kiss that stopped her heart. Rachel's hands hesitated in the air before they slid slowly around Quinn's shoulders and pulled her familiar warmth closer. She knew Quinn wasn't very good at expressing herself through words, and that this was Quinn telling her she absolutely understood what Rachel meant.

###

"I hate airports. The coffee alone is enough to make one regret buying a ticket to fly," Kurt waved a dismissing hand in the air as they passed a kiosk. He nearly jumped aside as a foreign vendor approached him, and he recoiled, "No, thank you, I think I have quite enough .. nail files," he rushed out and his hand latched around Rachel's arm.

Rachel laughed softly, sipping Starbucks, "God, Kurt, it's not like you're going to catch some terrible virus here. Besides, we're only here to pick up Santana and Brittany."

Quinn was striding beside Rachel, wearing jeans and a long coat, her gloved hand holding Rachel's in her own as they approached the boarding schedule. The digital lettering ticked by and Quinn's hand flew out to the next flight listing, "10:45am," she thoughtfully checked the clock beside them.

Rachel smiled appraisingly, receiving the same smile in return and a quick peck on the lips as Quinn leaned over.

"Girls, please, you two spent so much time groping each other in the taxi that I don't think I can even bear a peck right now," Kurt stated lamely and huffed. He smoothed out his vest and sat down, crossing his legs.

Quinn shot Kurt a look, "Hey, princess, we weren't groping each other. I had my hand on her leg and she gave me a kiss - " Quinn's face lit with a smirk, "a very nice one."

Rachel flushed a bright Red, avoiding Quinn's penetrating gaze, trying not to giggle as she saw Kurt ruffle indignantly out of the corner of her eye. She sat down next to Kurt, and felt Quinn slip in next to her as fingers laced with her own.

"So they should be here in about 20 minutes." Quinn's heel bounced nervously in the air and green eyes locked on the gates. "I haven't seen them in so long. What if they -"

"It'll be fine," Rachel gently squeezed Quinn's hand and pulled it in her lap before taking another sip of her Starbucks. "Brittany sounded really excited to see you and Santana said she wanted to know when you became a lesbian and why you weren't her first lesbian experience?" Rachel couldn't help the grin that passed over her lips. It was so wide she tried to hide it behind her fingers.

Quinn's eyes narrowed dangerously before she relented with a smile as well, "I guess that's a good thing," she sounded slightly, albeit playfully, disconcerted.

Rachel thought it was amusing how Quinn kept checking her watch, then her phone, then her watch, then her phone; lather, rinse, repeat, for the next 20 minutes. Sometimes she'd offer a reassuring squeeze, and eventually Quinn seemed to settle on Rachel as the best cure for nervousness. They'd spent quite a few minutes just looking at one another with quiet eyes before they were brought out of their pleasant bubble by the sound of Santana's voice.

"God damn, and here I thought you'd look like shit," the Latina grinned devilishly as she appraised Quinn on approach.

Brittany shook her head, "That's not very nice, S," she was the first to hug Quinn as the blonde stood.

Rachel watched with a grin on her face as Brittany hugged Quinn tightly, and she thought she saw Quinn smiling too as her former friend pulled away. Santana hesitated, though, as if wondering whether to be angry with Quinn for disappearing from their lives. Quinn's expression faltered and she bit her lip nervously as she met Santana's gaze.

Santana folded her arms, arched an eyebrow, "You have some nerve disappearing like you did," her tone was gentle but still serious.

Quinn visibly swallowed, and Rachel saw her nod imperceptibly.

"Good thing the midget found you," Santana lightened a little as she hesitated, stepped forward, and pressed what appeared to be a gentle kiss to Quinn's cheek. Rachel saw Quinn's shoulders sag in relief as she wrapped her arms around her former best friend. Rachel thought maybe she heard "missed you"s being exchanged but she couldn't be sure.

Brittany bounced over to her and quickly wrapped her up in a bone-crushing hug, "So you're all rich and famous now?"

Rachel giggled and nodded, "Yeah, I guess," she smiled brightly and hugged Brittany back. She really had missed these people - even if none of them had been very close back in high school. They were still a part of her past.

"You look really pretty," Brittany stepped back and stroked Rachel's hair before she gave Santana room to step in.

Santana's dark gaze was as penetrating as ever and Rachel felt her insides twitching nervously. She hesitantly opened her arms, silently questioning Santana for a hug, and to her surprise recieving possibly the tenderest of embraces she'd had besides Quinn's. Santana held the hug for longer than necessary, and Rachel felt herself flush a little with the warmth of it. Santana smelled vaguely like a warm summer day, and Rachel wondered why they'd never been friends.

"Thanks," Santana murmured quietly, and Rachel felt Santana's fingers toying with the ends of her hair. "You saved her. Don't know what I would've done knowing we'd lost her."

Rachel nodded simply into the embrace and after a moment peeled herself away, her hand reconnecting with Quinn's. The lovers shared a knowing gaze, Rachel resisting the urge to touch Quinn's face and kiss her lips, instead placating herself by pulling Quinn's hand closer to her torso.

"So you're still a flaming Queen," Santana turned to Kurt and smirked.

"You're still a raging bitch," Kurt smiled in return, his shoulders rising in a bit of laughter before rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Rachel couldn't help the smile on her own face as the pair hugged briefly then looked as if they were afraid of contaminating one another.

Brittany shrugged simply and hugged Kurt, smiling as she pulled away.

"So what are our plans?" Santana asked as she looped an arm around Brittany's waist and the group of five headed toward baggage claim.

Rachel glanced back at Kurt, who in very Rachel Berry fashion had printed out copies of schedules. Santana looked at one in disgust and tossed it into a garbage bin despite Kurt trying to dive for it, complaining about the fact it had taken him an hour to write up that schedule.

"Back to my place first, we'll get you two settled in the guest room and then I'm thinking maybe a nice dinner?" Rachel suggested cautiously, and noticed Quinn was a little silent. Rachel saw wheels turning behind those green eyes and had a feeling Quinn was just taking everything in, wanting to avoid rejection from two people she'd been closest to her whole life.

Santana nodded in agreement, "Sounds good to me, that plane food is shit. And Kurt if you're spending an hour writing out a schedule you've been spending too much time with Berry," Santana thumbed in Rachel's direction but winked at her playfully, softening the insult.

Rachel smiled warmly before glancing up at Quinn, who still looked a little nervous. She pulled Quinn's glove off her hand, eliciting a strange look from the blonde, before Rachel dipped her head and kissed Quinn's palm delicately, as if assuring her everything would be fine. Nobody seemed to notice, but Rachel didn't care if they had, because Quinn's face was alight with adoration and warmth.

###

"So how long have you been gay for Fabray?" Santana questioned over the dinner table. The group had gotten everyone settled in at Rachel's and made it just in time for dinner reservations. Her dark eyes glanced over the table at Rachel.

A little "on the spot," Rachel shifted uncomfortably in her chair and glanced at Quinn momentarily, who was looking at her through her eyelashes a bit as she ate. Rachel hadn't really given a whole lot of thought to this particular subject, and she cleared her throat a little before she set her fork down with a quiet clang, "Well, I suppose as long as we've been rivals there's been an amount of tension there which," she cast another sidelong glance at Quinn, who seemed to be listening with interest, "can only be explained by some kind of passion or unrequited or unacknowledged love."

"You still talk like an encyclopedia," Brittany bounced a bit and glanced at her food.

Santana glanced over at her lover and smirked, "Encyclopedias don't talk, Britt."

Quinn looked up from her meal, smiling at the exchange. Next to her, Kurt was unfolding his napkin and laying it on his lap, and he piped up easily, "Well, I could have guessed it quite some time ago, actually. Except I think it was a little more obvious on Quinn's part than Rachel's."

Quinn shrugged noncomittally and smiled, "I guess so," her tone was warm and her eyes glowed a bit as she glanced over at Rachel, an apologetic tint to the way she looked at Rachel.

"I never would've guessed actually. And I'm a little offended that you never had a crush on me," Santana sat back and studied Quinn carefully.

Quinn laughed a bit, causing Rachel to smile with quiet admiration at her plate as she answered, "You couldn't pull off the whole sexy librarian chic like Rachel could. And you don't have her legs."

"I like your legs, S," Brittany batted her eyelashes at Santana, who looked only slightly offended.

Conversation lapsed shortly after, everyone enjoying their meals and commenting on this or that. Yet, as was appropriate, Rachel knew the conversation would eventually turn directly on Quinn and spotlight both her disappearance and addiction. She could sense it coming from a mile away as Santana looked thoughtfully at a meatball, and not like the way Brittany did when she was trying to decide whether or not it would bounce.

Rachel slid her hand underneath the table and gently grasped Quinn's knee approximately at the same time as Santana spoke.

"So uh," Santana hesitated, twirling a pasta noodle absently around her fork, "how did it happen?"

Quinn paled a little and glanced down, "Too much partying, just one of those downward spirals I guess."

"But you're clean now?" Santana looked genuinely concerned, "And no...AIDs or anything?"

Quinn smiled forgivingly, "HIV, and no, I don't have HIV. I am clean and sober, going on two weeks, since I got out of detox."

Santana nodded thoughtfully, and Rachel watched the exchange carefully. Rachel felt Quinn's fingers slip into hers and squeeze as if asking for support or an out, and Rachel cleared her throat, "It's going to be an everyday struggle," Rachel filled in helpfully but met Quinn's eyes meaningfully, "but I know she can do it and she's not going to have to do it alone."

Rachel could feel Santana watching them carefully, as if deciding whether or not Rachel could genuinely help her former best friend.

Quinn lit up after a moment when she heard Santana speak.

"Plus she's got Britt and me to talk to again, now that she decided to stop hiding," Santana smiled softly at Quinn and they shared a tender gaze.

"Thank you," Quinn spoke softly, eyes wrinkling with a smile before she looked between Rachel and her friends, "I've even got Kurt to talk to, when I can tie him down."

Kurt gave Quinn a look and glanced away as if he could care less, but Rachel didn't miss the quirk of a smile at his lips or the way Quinn nudged his shoulder.

###

They arrived home with a couple drinks in them, Santana and Brittany hanging on one another as they collapsed on Rachel's couch.

"I like your place," Brittany's words lazily fell together as she lay her head on Santana's lap, then curled neatly into a ball.

"Thank you," Rachel grinned a little, "I think it's rather nice." She could feel her cheeks were warm from the alcohol, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Quinn trying to take her shoes off but failing. Rachel hid a laugh behind her fingers before she helped Quinn to the chair and took her shoes off for her.

Quinn looked entranced as she looked down at Rachel, a slow smile creeping on her lips. The haze of alcohol was clear in her eyes but behind that was complete adoration and it made Rachel shiver a little. Rachel, still knelt at Quinn's feet, merely met her lover's gaze with a shy smile.

"Damn, you guys are ridic," Santana commented as her head lulled back on the couch. "I mean I haven't seen anyone make puppy dog eyes at each other like that since..."

"You and Britt?" Kurt interjected, tipping slightly to the side as he tried to sit on a kitchen stool and nearly fell off, managing to catch himself and lean half on the counter.

Santana scoffed lightly but her fingers were sifting through Brittany's hair, "I'm not that soft."

"Sure," Kurt laughed a little, "that's why you're petting her."

Santana glared but stayed silent.

All the while, Rachel still felt locked under Quinn's loving gaze. The blonde's fingers slipped downward and captured Rachel's wrist, pulling the Broadway star up a little and encouraging her onto her lap. Quinn's perfect arms encircled her waist and Rachel's eyes fluttered a little as she felt a pair of lips at her shoulder. She smiled affectionately, blushed, and felt it continue just a bit. Everything else seemed to fade with Quinn's attention on her.

The blonde's fingers were tracing down Rachel's back, dancing along her spine and causing sweet little shivers to shoot along her skin like tendrils.

"I'm glad you guys are here," Quinn stated over Rachel's shoulder, although her physical attention was focused solely on Rachel. Rachel's fingers played at the ones resting over her stomach, tracing shapes up and down Quinn's hand occasionally. She leaned her weight gently against Quinn and lay back, resting her head easily on Quinn's shoulder. She felt as if her heart was going to explode with the amount of love in it.

"Yeah, me too," Santana replied, starting to sound sleepy. By the looks of it, she and Britt weren't going to make it to the guest room tonight.

Quinn was still pressing lazy kisses against Rachel's skin, now along her arm as Rachel wrapped herself in Quinn's arms.

Quinn's eyes lingered on Rachel's after a few moments, and she looked absolutely hypnotised. Her finger traced along the line of Rachel's hair and she quietly leaned in, capturing Rachel's lips in one of those quiet but loving kisses that left Rachel feeling like a puddle of goo. She whimpered quietly against Quinn's lips, felt love surging through her like rays of light.

Afterward, Quinn pressed her forehead against Rachel's, "I love you."

Rachel smiled, almost tearfully, and found her lips crushed against Quinn's again. She didn't care if Kurt was protesting or Santana and Brittany were passed out on the couch. All her love poured into the kiss as her arms snaked around Quinn's neck and she pressed herself as close as possible, "Never stop," she whispered desperately against Quinn's lips before her tongue dipped in to meet her lover's, hearts and minds in a dance of courtship.

###

At some point during the evening, Rachel and Quinn had made it to bed, both drunk on love. Rachel found herself on top of Quinn, straddling the blonde as a strangled moan fell from her lips as Quinn's familiar fingers filled her. Rachel had let out such a gasp that it seemed to excite Quinn even more, and as they rocked together, Rachel dipped down at captured Quinn's lips. The brunette's hips rolled passionately against Quinn's touch, gasping and panting between kisses as Quinn fucked her deeply and with purpose. Rachel had only known such passion with Quinn, and as she felt Quinn's fingers curl inside her, her hunger only grew. She pulled at Quinn's bottom lip with her teeth before breaking off to moan and encourage Quinn to continue. She didn't care if they had guests, this was bliss. She could feel Quinn insert a third digit and increase the pressure inside Rachel, causing Rachel to buck against Quinn's palm as a thumb skirted against her clit.

As much as she could, Rachel was pressed against Quinn, desperate for her kiss and her tongue as her hips rolled and insisted upon Quinn's hand, "More," Rachel begged, whimpered, and gasped as Quinn conceded, rolling Rachel over and spreading her wider. Quinn's hips rolled as if encouraging her fingers deeper inside Rachel. A mouth found an eager nipple and bit down as Rachel moaned desperately, fingers clawing at Quinn's shoulder.

Rachel tried desperately to be as quiet as possible but when Quinn was nibbling at her flesh like that and her fingers were swirling so insistently inside Rachel, it was hard. Her hips jutted up harshly into Quinn's touch, head rolling back and biting her own bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood. She clawed meaningfully before her fingers tangled in Quinn's hair.

Rachel knew there was a funny kind of irony as she gasped out Jesus' name and whimpered. It didn't occur to her though, and to be frank, Rachel Berry could give a shit because Quinn was fucking her into oblivion and it felt really, really good.

Quinn's lips found Rachel's, almost bruising them in a passionate liplock, and as Rachel came, moaning loudly into Quinn's breath, Quinn didn't stop. Rachel's body trembled and Quinn's fingers still swirled and pressed and insisted, and before Rachel knew it she was drenched in sweat, breathless, and coming for a third time as Quinn pressed at that perfect spot again.

She didn't notice the sunrise until Quinn slowly withdrew and began pressing kisses down Rachel's torso. Rachel vaguely heard herself saying something about sleep when Quinn mumbled right beneath her navel something that sounded like 'sleep when dead,' and that's when she felt Quinn's tongue dip inside her, taste her, and begin to suck at that bundle of nerves.

Rachel forgot all about sunrise and getting sleep as her hips rocked into Quinn's mouth, begging, tears escaping her eyes as Quinn sought out Rachel's absolute limit. Her tongue did things Rachel couldn't even imagine, and the Broadway star made a brief mental note to ask Quinn to show her how to do that later.

###

"Jesus," Santana's voice jarred Rachel from exhausted sleep, "It's 3pm. I mean I know you guys were screwing like bunnies but if I recall correctly we all have a Broadway show to get to in five hours and little miss Diva has to be there in two."

Quinn grumbled and pulled Rachel's bare body against her own, "Do you know how to knock?"

"Do you know how not to eat your girlfriend out when you have company over?" Santana responded, smirking knowingly and even Rachel giggled a little at the way Quinn's eyes shot open in shock, mouth agape with an unspoken retort.

Rachel couldn't help the laughter that peeled from her and she buried her face against Quinn's neck, fingers curled delicately around Quinn's arms as she pulled herself closer.

"Kurt made lunch," Brittany stated as she appeared in the doorway, "I'm glad Rachel's getting sex now, she smiles a lot more."

The comment only made Rachel laugh harder, and she could feel Quinn shaking with her own quiet laughter.

"Oh god," Quinn's voice brushed against Rachel's ear, "how embarassing," she seemed to be trying to hide herself against Rachel, too, as Rachel laughed.

"You know, if you can replace your addiction with sex, you'll be good to go," Santana added lastly before wheeling around, and Rachel was sure she heard a smile in Santana's words.

###

"And we're off!" Kurt smiled happily as he motioned for the girls to get in the limo. "If you girls can all keep your paws off each other we should arrive on time. Rachel," he reminded the diva as she sat next to him and Quinn piled in beside Brittany, "now that you're officially some kind of sex maniac," Rachel flushed at the comment as he continued, "I must inform you it's not good to have sex before a show. It makes your vocal cords raw, and with as loud as you are -"

"Oh god," Quinn covered her face and buried her head against Brittany's shoulder as Santana chuckled devilishly.

"I mean you can really project," Kurt stated almost with admiration.

Santana burst out in laughter and she shoved Quinn playfully from around Brittany.

"We should stop talking about sex now," Rachel commented, face fully red. Although she didn't regret being so active with Quinn, she'd never really been confronted with being teased about sex.

Santana grinned, "I agree with Kurt, you're a show-stopper."

Quinn groaned and buried her head against her knees, shaking her head in disbelief. Even Rachel had to laugh a little in embarassment.

###

"Do you guys want to see my dressing room?" Rachel asked simply, her fingers intertwined with Quinn's as they strode backstage.

Britt nodded excitedly and Santana followed.

"See you in a bit," Kurt pressed a kiss to Rachel's cheek before bounding off to his own dressing room to get ready, and Rachel lead the rest of the group to her dressing room.

She opened the door, "It's not too big but it's nice, and there's always a gift basket before each show," Rachel motioned to the basket of baked goods on the table, "You guys can have some if you want. Show doesn't start for about an hour and a half so we can hang out in here," still holding on to Quinn's hand, she watched Santana and Brittany dig into the gift basket eagerly.

Quinn sat in Rachel's chair and pulled Rachel onto her lap, pressing brief kisses to Rachel's fingers until the door swung open and who but Jesse St. James swaggered in.

He looked shocked at the scene before him - Rachel imagined it was a shock to see his ex-girlfriend wrapped in the arms of a woman when Rachel had never shown any inclination to same-sex attraction. Yet, the diva didn't move from her position on Quinn's lap and Quinn made no move to disengage, only lowered Rachel's hand into her lap.

"Jesse, what are you doing in here?" Rachel knew she sounded annoyed, "I fired you how long ago?"

Jesse looked speechless, his face contorted in disgust, "Are you a dyke now?"

The word enflamed Santana, who flew out of her seat and immediately shoved Jesse against the ajar door, slamming it shut. Her fingers wrapped tightly around his throat, "What was that?"

Rachel almost didn't want to intervene, but delicately peeled herself from Quinn's arms and her fingers delicately pulled at Santana's arm, meeting the Latina's eyes meaningfully and touching her cheek briefly before she watched Santana step back.

Jesse looked startled and upset, possibly offended, but Rachel sized him up carefully as she stepped between Santana and Jesse.

"If you're inquiring as to whether I'm in a relationship with a woman, the answer is yes. I'm in a relationship with Quinn," she thumbed the air behind her and saw a flash of Quinn's hand a few feet behind her. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't use such deragatory terms when it comes to my relationship and my integrity. Now if you'll see yourself out, I'd appreciate it." She didn't give him much choice as she pushed him aside, opened the door, and stepped aside to reveal a still frothing-at-the-mouth Santana.

Jesse had no response as he stumbled backward to avoid Santana's threatening stance, "I'll ruin you for this," was all he had to say as he retreated.

###

"You're amazing!" Brittany pounced into Rachel's arms and squeezed the diva tightly after the show, all traces of Jesse forgotten. "I can't believe that was really you up there!"

Santana nodded appreciatively and nudged Quinn, "You should be proud of your girl, she's really a star. And I thought all that talk in high school was bullshit."

Rachel smiled tearfully, happily, and wrapped her arms around Quinn's waist as she looked at Santana and Brittany, "Thank you guys, I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"And you, Gaga, even you deserve a compliment," Santana's gaze moved over Rachel's shoulder somewhere and Rachel felt a hand at her free side as Kurt joined them.

"Thank you," Kurt stated proudly and smiled. "Now let's get out of here because I'm exhausted."

"Agreed," Rachel sighed into Quinn's shoulder as she felt the blonde's arm wrap around her. Quinn's lips pressed against her forehead and Rachel smiled. The group made their way out of the back entrance, but the joyful atmosphere was shattered as soon as bulbs flashed in Rachel's face.

Reporters shouted in Rachel's direction and Rachel tried to hide herself against Quinn. She'd been faced with papparazzi before but never before with this kind of maliciousness in the air.

"Is it true you're a lesbian?" One shouted.

"Is it true you fired your manager without any reasoning?"

"Miss Berry, were you at once dating your manager? Do you realize there's no professional regard for such behavior?"

"Are you aware that your acting company has a policy against unprofessional behavior?"

Santana seemed to be the only one capable of firing back as she knocked the camera out of one of the reporter's hands, "Get out of here, you slime," she snarled and her lover guided Quinn and Rachel back to the limo waiting at the backstage entrance. "Go on, hounds, write this in your shit magazines: Rachel Berry is a human being and deserves to live without you idiots questioning her choices. She's also a fucking superstar."

Rachel couldn't help the grin on her face as she heard the words and saw Santana pile into the limo. Both she and Brittany threw their arms around Santana and hugged her despite the Latina's protest. Even Kurt patted Santana thankfully on the shoulder.

Inside, Rachel was scared. What would this mean for her career? Would the acting company really reprimand her? There was no doubt that Jesse had been the one to shed light on the situation. She'd done everything in her life to end up on Broadway, met great success on its stage, and now her happiness was being threatened by her choice to actually be happy.

Rachel felt Santana's warm arms squeeze her before releasing the diva to Quinn's embrace, and Rachel glanced up at Quinn, her lover, the person she wanted to save, the person who'd so quickly become everything, and she wanted desperately to believe that everything would be fine. Quinn's fingers sifted through Rachel's hair and she took an easy breath against Quinn's collarbone, squeezing herself tightly in her lover's arms. What would she do if she lost everything she'd worked for? What would she do if she lost her Broadway stardom? Would it really matter?

Rachel felt guilty. It would matter, but what mattered more was Quinn, and she could be certain of nothing else as she opened her eyes, leaned up, and pressed her lips softly and lovingly against Quinn's.

"I love you," Rachel whispered, carefully pressed another kiss to Quinn's mouth, and felt Quinn smiling against her.

They'd figure it out.


	8. Verse 8

**Title**: Savior

**Pairing**: Quinn/Rachel

**A/N**: And here we are, the final chapter! No, I am not planning a sequel for this fic. I feel like at the completion of this chapter, the story will have reached an appropriate end, all loose ties tied. I so appreciate all the feedback I've gotten over the arc of writing this story, even though it seems so short. I hope you're all happy with it and I really hope you continue reading the fics that I come up with. I have a LOT of ideas and this most certainly isn't my last. You guys are amazing and I seriously just appreciate the fact you've all been so kind and giving with the compliments. Any comments/reviews I get following the publication of this chapter, I'll be responding to via PM (sorry if I missed yours after verse 7 - I started writing this directly after publishing 7) so you all know I'm reading and loving that you guys liiiike me! 3 Thank you so much.

_Badgirl762: Thank you! I know, I really liked playing with their friendship and letting it develop. It gave me some ideas for some future fics, too. ^_^  
>NandinhaMa: I'm so glad you enjoyed it!<br>Sharene19: I'm flattered! Haha I hope you've enjoyed the rest of the chapters, too!  
>14thChronicle: You called it! I could have elaborated more on the media frenzy in this chapter but I felt it was in the end sort of irrelevant to the overall story. Thank you seriously for your kind comments along the way. ^_^<br>SamDittrich: I'm glad you love my Quinn, I love her too, haha! I'm glad you think it's beautiful, it truly was a beautiful story to write.  
>faberrydragon: Of course everything works out! ;)<br>sdmwd1115: I think at the heart of Santana is a truly caring, protective soul. I love bringing out her softer side when I can.  
>xtreme: Ah, you're too kind to me! 3 I'm glad you enjoyed everything and I'm sure you'll get a kick out of the revenge coming Jesse's way. ;)<em>

###

**Verse 8**

_Breathe, I believe,  
>I can't live without you, I can't live with you;<br>And I'm in love with you._

###

The day the media frenzy hits, you're both laying in bed and she's relaxed in your arms. You're breathing her in like it's the first time, the dayglow falling in through the window as you kiss her perfect shoulder. She looks up at you with those perfect brown eyes, and she smiles. There's something about the moment that makes you forget that you should be breathing; instead your lungs stop functioning and you feel yourself sink into the way her fingers are tracing along your collarbone, the way she looks at you as if you're some kind of divine being. You can't understand what she sees in you. For years you were nothing but her tormentor, and now you're a recovering drug addict.

Heroin still calls to you in the middle of the night. A phantom voice fading in through the windows, tugging at your wrist and begging you to partake. You miss the way it felt like floating, the way you sort of felt like jelly. It wasn't like doing hallucinogens; you didn't see anything or hear anything. It just felt like your whole body was humming and sometimes you could feel it like a warm blanket covering you. It's still tempting to go out and find a dealer when she's out getting groceries or out to a late dinner with Kurt. You know you could reasonably walk down the street and find someone willing to give you the goods. Rachel trusts you with her money, though, and sometimes you think she shouldn't because there have been a few times where you've slipped your shoes on and started for the door. You suppose the important part is that you stopped yourself the second your hand connected with the door handle. Everything in you wanted that high, everything, even the parts that belonged to Rachel. It was like something clawing inside you, begging to be fed. It was unbearable and sometimes it physically tortured you.

Always, always she was there when you were in pain. Always she returned just at the right moment, her fingers tracing your face and pulling you back from that impossible abyss of addiction. You imagined your eyes were glazed and that's how she knew you were fighting the addiction. It was an every day battle, like she'd told Santana and Britt. Always Rachel was there to sooth your muscles as they quivered underneath your skin and ached. She somehow always had a warm rag to dab away the cold sweat at your brow.

Sometimes she'd sing to you when you asked, and other times you'd sing with her. You wanted to cry, wanted to beg her to let you go and find the high, but the parts of you that belonged to Rachel wouldn't let you anymore. Maybe that one time, when you'd first made love and then ran away from her. It wasn't something you could've helped at the time. You were both addicted and terrified at the time. Now you weren't really terrified, just addicted.

Rachel's lips at your throat brought you out of your thoughts, and you couldn't help the slow smile that fell on your own, "Come back to me," she whispered delicately and pulled at you. Who could resist her? The love she had for you was impossible, and the love you had for her was equally impossible. If you could go back in time, you'd tell yourself that all the hard roads you'd travel would bring you to her arms and she'd be there waiting for you.

"I'm here," you all but crooned and pressed your lips to hers, conveying all your love in that single moment. All your gratitude. It was so hard to fight the addiction sometimes, but having Rachel seemed to make up for a lot of it.

Sometimes, when the addiction was especially difficult, you'd end up seducing Rachel all over again to fill the endlessly craving void inside of you. You knew that she understood why you seemed so eager sometimes, but she didn't seem to mind. That was the perfect thing about Rachel, she always understood everything about you and you almost never had to say a thing. You wanted that for her, though, you wanted to say more. You'd never been very good at expressing yourself - after all in the Fabray household it had been all about hiding away your true feelings. Now that you didn't have a mask, you still had difficulties putting things to words. It wasn't that you were lacking in vocabulary - though you didn't have Rachel's extensive thesaurus of words - just that you'd never been able to put names to feelings and letters to reactions. Sometimes it was all together impossible, but Rachel always understood.

She was stroking your neck softly in that way that made you sigh aloud, and your eyes slid open to find her looking at you again. You had to smile, just had to, when you saw the look of love in her eyes. It was your second-favorite sight. (The first was the passionate abandon in her face in the middle of the night when you were in bed together, the way those eyes would turn impossibly dark and suck you in.)

"I wonder what the media will say about the other night," Rachel pondered, her gaze turning thoughtful as she lingered on you. You felt her rest her head in the crook of your neck and began stroking her hair as she spoke. "Santana was pretty protective, wasn't she?"

"She always has been. At least, with me she was, and now I guess she kind of sees you as an extension or an addiction to that bond," you explain the best you can. Santana had indeed surprised you that night and it had meant everything to you that she'd been able to protect Rachel when you didn't know how to. You didn't know what the media was like, really, so you didn't know how they'd react or what they'd say.

"I mean, it's Broadway, so certainly they'll be a little less harsh about the idea of homosexuality. It's not like it's any surprise. If it weren't for us, there would be no Broadway," Rachel smiled and you had to laugh a little warmly at that. She was right, but you loved the way she said everything so frankly and with just the right words. Who used the word "homosexuality" these days anyway? That was one of the things you loved about Rachel, one of the things you'd always loved about Rachel.

You sit up a little, pull her with you, and stifle a yawn, "Even if they are, it'll blow over, I'm sure. I don't know much about tabloids but don't they find some kind of cross-bred human-alien every couple of weeks?"

Rachel laughs in the way that makes your stomach flutter, and you respond with a smile as she nods. She looks a little relieved.

You hear a knock at the door and you know it's Santana by the way there's a tapping foot coupled with the knocking, "Are you two lovebirds awake yet? Britt wants breakfast and you guys have shitty vegan food because you're such lesbians."

"I've always been a vegan," Rachel calls out, grinning before she climbs out of bed. You admire her bare skin as she moves to the closet and finds something comfortable. She picks out your favorite pair of boyshorts and one of your old Cheerio hoodies. There's something incredibly sexy about it, and she knows it because she smirks at you before tossing some clothes at you.

You get dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a zip-up sweater, watching her in the armoire mirror as she ties up her hair. Your eyes lock and you smile quietly at her. "I love you," sometimes it just spills out of your mouth when you aren't even thinking.

"Never stop," Rachel replies in such a loving manner you can't help but wrap your arms around her from behind and kiss her neck. She sighs, her head dipping back to rest on your shoulder before you're interrupted by another knock.

"Don't make me sacrifice a chicken out here," Santana's voice grumps from the other side of the door and the handle jiggles. You have to laugh as you hear Santana growl in displeasure and vaguely Brittany's comforting tone despite her words being muffled by distance.

Rachel gasps, which makes you laugh a little more, and she breaks away, flinging the door open, "There will be no killing of live animals in my house, Santana Lopez!"

"As opposed to dead ones?" You hear Santana bite back and you can only shake your head as you make your way into the livingroom. You sit next to Britt on the couch and rest your head on her shoulder as Rachel and Santana bicker over what Rachel should cook them all for breakfast.

"That's beside the point," Rachel responds in a startled way as if just realizing that what she said made no sense whatsoever.

"Okay, Jeeves, but I'm serious you need some - ah hah! Finally, fucking food."

"I have plenty of food."

"Yeah but it's all shit. Besides this." Santana appraises the box of mac and cheese as if to make sure it's not full of organic things and fake cheese, with Rachel glaring pointedly at her from the other end of the kitchen.

Rachel's impatient sigh and the way she flares her nostrils makes you laugh again, and Brittany grins knowingly at the pair.

"We should come out more often," Brittany says to you, and you feel a surge of gladness as you look at her. You know that the process of getting clean is going to require a lot of friends and you'd honestly not been expecting support from the people you'd abandoned, but the way Brittany loops an arm around you and squeezes tells you that you're not going to have to suffer a moment of this alone.

"I agree," you hear yourself respond and close your eyes, yawning again.

Sometimes when it's good like this, you think of Beth, when you can spare the emotion. She passes through your mind now and you search your mind for all the things you'd tell her if you ever met her. Would you explain to her everything you'd done? Why you'd done it? That you loved and missed her every day? Would she love you the way you'd always love the little child you'd birthed? You imagined the way she'd maybe giggle if you tried to say something funny - that is, if you'd kept her. Your heart twinges a little. All of that is irrelevant. You know Beth belongs with her adopted mother now, Rachel's mother, and that you have to take care of yourself before you can even consider re-establishing contact. You remember how distraught Rachel was when she finally met her mother - you don't want to put Beth through that. Your eyes slide open again and Santana and Rachel are cooking side-by-side. They could almost be friends, you think, and you hope eventually they can be.

You feel Brittany's hand sliding up and down your arm and you offer a thankful smile. Sometimes Brittany knows too much, for all her strange-wording and childlike observations.

It feels nice, to be surrounded by two friends who love you and a girlfriend who loves you even more. Your eyes settle back on Rachel and she catches your eyes. You say everything in your silence, Rachel's eyes glittering affectionately. You realize that she's asking you something as your brain catches up to your ears.

"Vegan eggs or mac and cheese?"

"Vegan eggs," you respond and you know a while ago you would've never considered eating vegan eggs, but since that first morning in Rachel's condo when she'd taken you in from the streets you'd had a constant craving for those damn vegan eggs. It was like a virus or something, veganism.

Santana's eyebrow arched, "Lesbian."

"Likewise," you grin and shrug a shoulder.

###

Later that morning as you're all getting dressed in regular clothes that day, Rachel finds a tabloid taped to her front door with all kinds of ridiculous claims.

**BROADWAY STAR IN TORRID LESBIAN THREESOME**

**-Why Rachel Berry fired her manager!  
>-Who are her lovers?<br>-Will she choose between the drug addict or the foreigner?  
>-Who's the fourth girl she's been spotted with?<br>-Broadway Star falls into 'lesbian player' stereotype, breaking hearts along the way!**

At first you're not sure if she's going to be upset or if she'll laugh it off, but as you see her shoulders tense you find your way to her. You don't know what to say as you read the article advertisements, but a part of you is pissed that they found out you were a drug addict and another part is just pissed that they're talking about your girlfriend that way, the woman you've always loved. You don't say anything. Sometimes Rachel needs silence to formulate what she wants to say, and what she says is the perfect example of why you love her.

"They have no right to call you a drug addict and Santana is certainly no foreigner."

You smile lovingly at her and shake your head, "It doesn't matter what they say about me. And I'm sure Santana could care less."

"It matters to me," Rachel turns around in your arms and looks at you as if she's puzzled, "your past is your past and it's not fair to lay it all out in the papers like that. I don't care if they talk about me but ... god, they don't even have any sympathy for people who're struggling to -"

Rachel is silenced as you lean forward and kiss her, and she whimpers into your mouth. As you pull away, she looks a little surprised.

"What was that for?"

"For being too damn perfect," you all but sigh. "What are you going to do about the tabloid?" You take it from her hands and appraise it with an expression of disgust, but inwardly you admire how beautiful Rachel looks and the fact that she's clinging to you in the picture and nothing ever looked so perfect.

"Lemme see that," Santana grabs it from your hands and plops down on the couch next to Brittany. You hear her snort with laughter as she opens up the tabloid, "Bullshit, do people really believe this?"

Rachel looks like she's thinking far too hard and she looks up at you as if you hold the answers, "I'm going to take revenge."

Revenge really isn't her thing, but the way she says it makes you believe she's really plotting something evil. She pulls from your arms and goes over to Santana, taking the tabloid out of her hands despite the Latina's protest, and heading to the counter. She dials a number on her phone and clears her throat.

"Hello? Yes, I'd like to give you guys a lead on a good story. I even have pictures that I can send at a later date," Rachel states, and you notice she's added a fake accent to her voice. Your eyebrow is arched in curiosity and you grin a little bit. "Rachel Berry's manager has actually committed IRS fraud and spends a large amount of time in a strip club." Whoever was on the line was apparently interested, "And he's sleeping with a prostitute, I'm pretty sure he has herpes."

Santana laughs in disbelief, silently, and Brittany just looks absolutely confused. You on the other hand are sure your face is painted with nothing but absolute admiration. Who knew Rachel Berry could be so absolutely devious?

"The address?" Rachel continues. "Yes, I'll send them right away."

She hangs up, and the four of you simultaneously grin at one another as if you've all just egged Jesse St. James in front of the entire Broadway stadium.

###

You all decide to go out for lunch that afternoon, and the papparazzi still swarm you. It makes it a little difficult to feel comfortable holding Rachel's hand when you know they're snapping pictures of every movement. They move around the group of you like an ameobus shell, and shout questions about who Santana is and who Brittany is and ask if you've shot up recently. You expect Santana to let off or maybe even Brittany but not Rachel.

Yet it's Rachel who stops directly in her place and wheels around to the frightened-looking pap that squeals before regaining his composure. You remember the way Rachel looks when she's really pissed and you see her ball her fists up at her sides like she used to when you were in high school and she'd just gotten slushied on a particularly bad day.

"Although I respect the public's right for inquiry, the fact that you continuously bring up a past you know nothing about is absolutely terrible. I'd think you'd all have some integrity or at least a healthy amount of shame. My," and you think you hear her hesitate but maybe not because she reaches back and takes your hand, "girlfriend is struggling with a very serious issue in her life. The last thing she needs is someone asking her if she's 'shot up' because the thought of her hitting that low point makes me incredibly upset and she doesn't like it when I'm upset either," and you know this is classic Rachel Berry anger because everyone's silenced by the fact she's yelling at them in perfectly articulated paragraphs. "Now, my friends and I are going out to lunch, so I'd kindly ask all of you to please take your last shot for the day and leave us alone."

They all look stunned, and the group of photographers each hesitate before taking one last photo. Some of them scramble off right away, others stay to apologize for a moment before they follow suit. You feel incredibly proud and blessed as Rachel stands there, your little protector. She looks all self-righteous and angry and you sooth her with a kiss on her lips as the papparazzi all leave.

"Thank you," you murmur against her lips and you feel Santana's hand on your shoulder.

Rachel smiles at you lovingly and you know that she doesn't want you to thank her.

"Come on guys, I'm starving," Santana states simply although her tone lacks the usual bursting of irritation.

Brittany takes Santana's pinky and swings Santana's arm, "Me too. Bacon sounds good."

Rachel watches you as if to make sure that you're alright, and you take her hand in your own and squeeze her hand reassuringly, "We'll have to find some place that serves bacon at one in the afternoon."

"It's New York. They have places that serve cow tongue, exclusively. Duh, Berry." Santana glances back at Rachel before she lags in her step and wraps an arm around Rachel's shoulder. The four of you make your way down the sidewalk and you think you've never felt so much a part of a group as you do right now. "Of course they have places that serve breakfast all day. Britt wants bacon, we find her bacon."

"Understood," Rachel nods simply and rests her head on Santana's shoulder. You chuckle to yourself as you think what people must wonder at, the four of you all attached somehow, Rachel Berry holding her lover's hand and resting her head on another girl's shoulder. You know it doesn't matter, though, because you think it's kind of nice that you're all somehow really close because of something you're going through. And you also think it's kind of nice that Santana seems to treat Rachel with a sort of kindness she only shows the people she really cares about.

###

That night the withdrawal pains start and Santana is the one to notice. She looks concerned and jumps to your side; you know she's asking you something but you can't hear her over the throbbing headache and you do the best you can to say Rachel's name, as if to indicate that's who you need. You see Santana nod and your eyes slip closed as you curl into a ball in the corner of the couch. The sweating starts and your heart races painfully.

It all passes in front of your eyes - the first time you shot up, your first real shot of heroin, Scooter and End making out lazily beside you, the lulling of everything around you. It's like someone's pressing the buttons on some remote in your head because it sounds like static before you see anything else. You see Beth, crying as the nurse carries her out of the hospital room. You only got to hold her once and you remember crying by yourself that night after you forced Puck to go home. Static again, further back, and you see Rachel crying in the choir room as Finn shouted something at her. Static again, Rachel's thirteen and reading that report on the first American theatrical production and you see doodles on your notebook paper that say 'Berry' with little hearts nearby. Static, fuzz, and you hear Rachel's voice calling at you from somewhere very far away and you feel cold, you feel incredibly cold and achy. You hear Brittany and Santana, too, farther away, as if they're a continent away shouting at you through a megaphone and you can't quite see but you think maybe you fell into a lake because the face above you looks fuzzy around the edges.

It clears slowly and you see Rachel; you wonder why she has tears in her eyes and you touch her face, it feels warm. Her voice is coming closer as you feel her arms loop around you and pull you closer. You smell summer rain, midnight air, vanilla, coconut, and you hear her singing delicately in your ear, although you can't make out the words.

"Is it always like this?" Santana asks, miles away in some abyss of consciousness.

You feel Rachel nod against you as she continues to sing, and you remember the way she used to say 'just a little longer, remember' when you thought the withdrawals would last forever.

Brittany is dabbing a cloth at your face and you start crying because you can't believe there are this many people that care about you. You see them looking at you with concern and you want to tell them you're crying because you're happy but to tell the truth you're crying because you're in pain and you're happy, too, somehow. You clutch to Rachel and feel your own ragged breath as you try to ride out the pain. You know heroin would fix this; it would all wash off you in a second - all the pain, all the memory, everything that hurt you inside and out. You can hear it calling to you so you hold on to Rachel just a little bit tighter.

You hear her singing and you know you can make it through this. Like clinging to a liferaft, she keeps you afloat when it's the hardest and you wonder how you ended up here, how you ended up in Rachel Berry's arms. Some horrible road you've travelled down to end up in the place you'd always wanted to be.

You want to tell her that you know you were meant for her but you hear yourself distantly, like through fog, crying. Rachel's still singing though, so you're okay for now and you feel Santana sitting next to the pair of you, her hand resting hesitantly on your back.

For the first time since all this started, Rachel lets you go. At first that frightens you but then you feel Santana's arms replace Rachel's and you realize Rachel's only getting up to get you some water because if you keep sweating like that you're going to dehydrate and be in even more pain. You find yourself clinging to your best friend and hear Santana humming worriedly against you, and you know that you couldn't ask for better people to have in your life. You feel Santana's lips on your clammy forehead and you feel her let go. You're floating in free space and frightened but again you smell summer rain and midnight air and you know Rachel's holding you again. She's coaxing some water down your throat, and you manage not to choke. Half the glass is gone before you start regaining a bit of your control and everything becomes a little clearer. You can speak, finally, and you find Rachel's eyes locked on yours with quiet desperation.

"There were no professional dramatists until William Dunlap, whose work as a playwright and theater historian earned him the title of the 'Father of American Drama,'" the words come from your mouth like you'd spoken them always, but it's not your voice in your head, it's Rachel's. You remember her saying that exact same thing, and you know she remembers too because she laughs tearfully.

"My god, you actually do remember," she says in disbelief and you feel glad that you've distracted her from the fact you're in pain right now.

"Always," you state simply, proudly, and you sigh a little bit as you feel your pain start to cease. It's still there, but dull, and you relax in Rachel's arms, feeling suddenly very tired. You feel perfect in Rachel's arms even if you are a recovering heroin addict.

Santana's hand brushes your damp hair from your face and she offers a lame smile, "You two are cheesy as shit," and you know that's her way of saying she cares about you, her way of saying she hates seeing you in pain. You grasp her hand for a moment before closing your eyes.

"At least we're not foreigners," you smile through your pain and you hear a soft, collective laugh, and feel Rachel's lips on your forehead.

###

A week later you're sharing dinner with Rachel on the couch. She's staring at the television eating some kind of pasta, and mouthing the lines to 'My Fair Lady' in that dreamy way she does sometimes. She barely notices you're looking at her, a fact which you're grateful for because she looks perfect as the television illuminates her. Your fork is hanging midair in your hands like those three little dots at the end of some 'to be continued' and you're smiling a bit stupidly at her, hoping she doesn't notice.

You're having less withdrawal pains; the cravings are still there but they aren't as intense. Rachel makes it easier, knows exactly when to distract you right before the withdrawal hits. You'd both said your goodbyes to Santana and Brittany a few days back; you and Rachel had made love right when you got home like you were both straight out of high school and unable to control yourself. Yesterday the tabloid was taped to your door again and it read in big, bright, bold letters:

**JESSE ST. JAMES CAUGHT IN SCANDALOUS PUBLIC ACT OF INTIMACY, CLAIMS INNOCENCE**

You two had gloated about that one, because it felt a little bit like karma was winking at you.

Rachel's face lit up with a smile under the glow of the television. Eliza Doolittle was dancing around with Professor Higgins because she'd finally said something right. You can't help the feeling that surges through you because you think it's the most adorable thing in the world that she has tears in her eyes.

"It's kind of like you and me," she says suddenly in the darkness, and you must look confused because when she looks over at you, she smiles, "I helped you get better, you know? Higgins got Eliza off the streets and even though they ended the play without them falling in love, they loved one another through it all. That's what helped Eliza overcome everything."

You smile and you think it's possibly the sweetest thing she's said to you. You forget about your noodles and her noodles and set them both down on the coffee table before you take her face in your hands and brush your lips over hers.

"Does this mean you're going to ask me where your slippers are?"

She laughs, and you kiss her again, just because she's too perfect not to kiss. You want to tell her how much you love her, but you realize you both have the rest of your lives to do that.


End file.
